


With Hearts of Gold

by Cinnamongirl



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/F, Slow Build, Soul Bond, Voiceverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-02-16 23:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 54,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13064829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamongirl/pseuds/Cinnamongirl
Summary: All mages are born with a soulmate--a voice they hear in the darkness of the Fade all their lives. The majority of Qunari mages are bound and controlled by their Voice while being denied their literal voices.Herah Adaar is one of the lucky ones.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fire, Walk with Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/762011) by [Khirsah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khirsah/pseuds/Khirsah). 



> This was inspired by the [Voiceverse soulmate AU](http://archiveofourown.org/series/405085). You don't need to have read the other stories to understand this one but you should definitely read them anyway.
> 
> The title comes from the song [Stay Gold](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veHUZMoKObc) by First Aid Kit.

Herah is eight years old when she first realizes that she can make ice with her mind.

She’s distracted when it happens- she’d had another weird dream last night and she’s been in a bad mood all day. She wasn’t thinking when she tried to pick up a metal horseshoe that had been sitting in the sun and she’s crying a little and wishing that she had some cold water to dunk her hand in when there’s a lump of ice in her other hand and she has no idea how it got there.

She tries again later and discovers that she can do it without burning herself; she just has to think about it the right way. Herah keeps practicing until she manages to freeze a stick without touching it.

She asks her twin brother Karaas if he can do it but he has no idea what she’s talking about. She makes a chunk of ice and holds it out to him. He pokes at it suspiciously.

“How’d you do that?” 

“You feel it inside you, but it’s not really inside your body, and then you pull it out from your brain and think about it turning into ice.”

“Huh?”

“It’s easy to do but it’s hard to explain.” It’s almost like when she learned how to curl her tongue- the muscles had always been there but it took her a while to realize that she could use them this way.

Karaas tries hard and she does her best to teach him but he can’t manage it. They give up after about twenty minutes and decide that it’s probably something that only girls can do.

 

Herah doesn’t think about the ice thing until a few days later, when her mother is complaining about how hard it is to keep the house cool in the summer.

“Why don’t you make some ice?” 

“What are you talking about? Where would I freeze it?” She doesn’t sound annoyed but she sounds confused.

“You know, with your brain.”

“Is this one of your jokes with Karaas that other people don’t understand?”

Herah keeps trying to explain but her mother doesn’t get it so she just makes a small piece of ice on the kitchen table. She’s expecting her mother to tell her what it’s called (because “making ice” is apparently not the right name for it) but instead she looks out the windows and then pushes Herah into her bedroom. Herah starts to ask what is wrong but her mother interrupts and tells her to stay there and not come out until she gets back.

Herah sits down on the floor and waits. She’s bored and kind of mad at her mother. 

She comes back a few minutes later and Herah’s father is with her. “Can you show him what you did while we were in the kitchen?” she asks. Her voice sounds weird.

Herah doesn’t understand what’s going on but she obeys her mother and makes another chunk of ice.

Her father’s eyes go wide. “How long have you been able to do that?”

She counts on her fingers. “Three days? Or four days, I’m not sure.” 

“Have you shown it to anybody else?”

“I showed Karaas. He doesn’t know how to do it, though.” It seems like something is wrong. The ice is cold in her hand.

Her parents talk to each other in Qunlat. They’re speaking too fast for her to understand any of it. When they finish, her father is crying. He hugs Herah so quickly and so hard that she drops the ice, which had been melting in her hand. Her mother says “There’s nothing wrong with you. I promise that there’s nothing wrong with you.” She keeps saying it over and over and Herah doesn’t understand. She buries her face in her father’s shoulder and she starts crying, too.

The next morning, her parents send out a lot of letters to almost everyone they know. Her mother reminds her again not to do the ice thing where people can see her and to tell them if she finds anything else that she can do, but otherwise her parents are acting normal again. She continues to practice making ice but she does it in private now.

 

Soon afterward, Herah’s parents introduce her to a man who calls himself Taashath. He has scars around his mouth and he looks like he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. “He’s going to be your teacher,” her mother explains. “You must listen to him carefully and do whatever he tells you.”

“Yes, mother.” She’s never had an actual teacher before. She doesn’t know what he’s going to teach her but she’s excited about learning new things.

Taashath leads her far out into the middle of a field, where they can’t see anyone else in any direction. He shows her that he can make ice the same way that she can, but he can also make fire and lightning. She thinks that he’s probably there to teach her how to make different things with her mind. She tries to listen very carefully, like her mother told her. “This is magic,” he explains. “The Qun calls us saarebas, which means ‘dangerous thing.’ People here in the South call us mage, which just means ‘magic user.’”

“I like mage better.”

Taashath smiles and it makes the scars move. “Me too.”

Herah has so many questions for Taashath about magic and mages and if he can teach her how to make fire next, but he tells her that she needs to learn how to meditate before she can do anything else. “You have to learn to control yourself because you won’t have someone else there to control you,” he explains. She spends the rest of the morning sitting on the ground, trying to ignore the heat and the bugs and calm her mind.

She tells everyone in the family about her first magic lesson while they’re eating lunch. She thinks it’s unfair that she had to sit still while her brothers and sisters were allowed to run around and play (except for Isa, but she’s just a baby so she doesn’t count). Her mother reminds her that she needs to listen to Taashath and obey him.

 

He does answer her questions over the next several days but they still spend most of their time meditating. Finally, Taashath declares that Herah is ready to work on ice again. In between meditating, he teaches Herah to control the ice so that she only freezes certain areas and not others. It’s exhausting work. She isn’t really moving much but she’s out of breath by the time they stop to take a break. 

After weeks of this, she works on trying to make the ice as large and as powerful as possible until she can make a wall of ice around her that’s so tall that she can’t see over it. 

Taashath charges at her and tells her to freeze him in place before he reaches her. The first few times, she’s too scared to do anything and he stops just before he knocks her over. “Faster,” he growls. “I’m not going to hurt you but you need to be able to stop someone who will.”

“I’m trying!”

“You’re too scared. You need to meditate more until the fear doesn’t control you.”

He’d already made her spend an hour meditating this morning and it’s the last thing that she wants to do right now. She stands up straight and glares at him. “I’m not scared! I can do it.”

“Then do it.” His voice is stern and she has to bite her lip to stop it from trembling.

The next time, she makes a thin layer of ice around him but he breaks out of it almost immediately.

“Good, now make it stronger.”

It takes three more tries but she manages to trap him in a large block of ice. Herah walks around it, staring at him. He isn’t moving and she’s afraid that she’s killed him, but the ice dissolves and he looks like he feels fine. He smiles at her. Taashath doesn’t smile very often. “That was very good! I’m proud of you. You can take the rest of the day off.” She’s excited about it until she gets back to the house and her mother immediately gives her a long list of chores, but she hears him in her mind. _I’m proud of you._ She thinks that she’s proud of herself, too.

 

The next day, they start working on lightning. Taashath explains that mages who are part of the Qun use a lot of lightning magic in combat so it might come more easily to her. It takes her a few days to figure out how to do it, but she’s finally able to make a weak lightning bolt. It feels different than making ice. Lightning is faster and brighter but it feels good once she gets the hang of it.

 

Once she’s mastered lightning, they work on barriers and shields. The weather has gotten cold by now so they practice inside and Herah is strictly forbidden by both her parents and Taashath from attempting any kind of magic that could damage the house. Barriers are hard because there’s nothing she can look at to tell if she’s doing it right. She has to feel with her mind without breaking concentration and ending the spell, and it usually gives her a headache.

 

Winter is mostly over but it’s not quite spring yet when Taashath says “You’re ready to go into the Fade to find your arvaarad.” He’s looking at her like he expects her to know what any of that means.

“What?” she asks. She feels stupid.

“Oh, of course. Let me start over.” He explains about the Fade first. He says that people get close to the Fade when they dream, but it’s not the same as actually being there. The Fade is like fire or the ocean- it’s not trying to kill you on purpose but it can kill you anyway if you aren’t careful. Herah learns that demons live in the Fade. The Qun has very strong opinions about demons and humans have about 20 different opinions on them depending on which humans you talk to, but they’re all just speculation. The demons themselves will all tell you that they’re just spirits but they aren’t necessarily telling the truth. 

Herah listens intently while he explains. “Demons are interested in our world and they try to copy it in the Fade. They can hear what we want, or what we’re afraid of, or any other strong feelings, and they try to copy those too. Demons are very easily influenced by our world. Some of them try to possess and control people, which is the worst thing that can happen to someone.”

“What do you mean, they try to copy stuff?” Herah is fascinated but the things that he’s saying are scary to think about.

“The Fade isn’t like our world, where everything stays the same. Things can change because of how you feel or what you’re thinking about. If you want something very badly, the demons will try to make it for you but it won’t be the same and you’ll end up regretting it. Whatever you do, don’t try to summon demons and control them. That’s what the idiot Vints do and it always goes wrong.”

Herah’s eyes widen and Taashath must notice it because he says “You’re afraid. If you’re scared of the Fade while you’re in there, it will be a scary and threatening place. If you’re over-confident, the demons will outsmart you and trick you into doing something that you don’t want to do. You have to be be humble but not afraid.”

“How do I do that?”

“Why do you think you’ve been meditating so much?”

He makes her practice meditating _again_ , even though they just did it earlier. “Remember how it feels to meditate and try to feel like that while you’re in the Fade.”

“What am I supposed to look for in there?”

“Every mage has an arvaarad, which is a person who can make your magic more powerful and help protect you from demons. You might never be able to meet them in person but it’s a good idea to know who they are.”

“But what does my arvaarad look like?”

“You’ll know when you find them.”

“Where will they be?” She hopes that the Fade isn’t too big. She gets lost in the village sometimes even though her parents say that it’s very small.

“You’ll be drawn to them. Remember how I said that the Fade changes based on what you want? Keep looking and you’ll find them.”

 

He shows her how to enter the Fade and how to look for her arvaarad. The Fade is really interesting but it’s also very strange. There’s fog everywhere and she can’t see very far but she can somehow see a creepy-looking island off in the distance. She’s standing on some kind of path, even though the ground doesn’t feel solid under her feet. Everything feels weird and muted compared to real life. Herah can see things floating around and she thinks that they’re probably demons but she tries to calm her mind like she’s meditating and they seem to ignore her.

Herah realizes that she can hear a noise in the background wherever she goes. It’s quiet, but it’s coming through clearly even though everything else is fuzzy here. Even when she walks for a while and turns around to find that the place behind her isn’t at all like the place she just walked through, the sound is still there. 

She tries to follow the sound by walking in a straight line until the sound gets quieter and then turning in a different direction and walking until the sound gets louder again. It takes a very long time because she keeps getting lost. Herah feels like she’s been walking for hours but she never gets tired. When the sound gets loud enough for her to make it out, she realizes that it’s a person speaking in a language that she’s never heard before.

After a lot more walking, Herah sees a human girl sitting on a rug and playing with dolls. The girl has long hair in a braid down her back. She’s making the dolls talk to each other and Herah realizes that this is the voice that she’s been following. Herah walks in front of her but the girl doesn’t notice her. It looks like she’s about Herah’s age, even though it’s hard to tell with humans. She’s never met this girl before but she somehow knows for sure that they are best friends.

“Can I play with you?” she asks.

The girl ignores her. Herah realizes that if she can’t understand the girl’s language, she probably can’t understand what Herah is saying either. She sits down on the rug next to her and tries to pick up one of the dolls but her hand passes through it. She tries touching the girl’s arm to get her attention but that doesn’t work either.

Taashath had said something about how things in the Fade look real but they aren’t. This must be what he meant.

The dolls are beautiful, with painted faces and clothes that are fancier than anything Herah has ever seen on a real person. Herah and her sister play with dolls but the ones they have are made of straw or bits of cloth. She’s only ever seen dolls like this in a shop window in the big city. 

From what Herah can tell, three of the dolls are arguing with each other. A fourth one keeps trying to intervene but the other three won't listen to it. There are two more dolls that are involved somehow but Herah can’t figure out what their roles are.

“I’m Herah. It’s nice to meet you! I love your dolls.” The girl doesn’t respond, but it’s still nice to talk to her. “Do they have names? Which one is your favorite? I like that one with the green dress.” She sits there talking to her until she wakes up.

 

“Did you find someone?” Taashath asks.

The floor feels too solid against Herah’s back. She winces and turns away from the light. Everything feels sharp for a moment until she adjusts and remembers where she is.

“There was a human girl. I heard her talking and I followed the sound until I found her. I couldn’t play with her because she wasn’t real, or I wasn’t real, or something.”

“She’s your arvaarad, even though you would have been assigned to another one if you had been born to the Qun.”

Herah sits up. She feels more alert and energized now. 

She remembers Taashath saying that every mage had someone who they could find in the Fade. “Who’s your arvaarad?”

Taashath closes his eyes for a moment. “I’ve told you what it’s like for mages in the Qun.”

“I remember.” Herah had started crying when he told her. She has nightmares about it, sometimes.

“They say that the arvaarad’s duty is to control us, so that they can keep everyone safe. The word literally means ‘holds back evil.’ We can’t go anywhere without them and they have tools to stop us from using magic and to stop us from moving at all.” He pauses to breathe. “My arvaarad and I were together for a long time. He never broke the rules but he was kind to me, more than he had to be, and I fell in love with him. I wasn’t allowed to talk to him while we were awake but I think he knew. He got very sick and the healers tried to save him but they couldn’t. I left the Qun after he died.”

“That’s very sad.” She scoots over to hug him. Taashath laughs under his breath as he ruffles her hair.

“Here in the South, they call it a Voice instead. I’m guessing you like that better?”

Herah remembers the girl’s voice, calling to her from across the Fade. “That’s a lot nicer.”

“In Tevinter they say unum vinctum, which means ‘one bound.’ The unum vinctum is basically a slave who the mage uses to make themselves more powerful.”

Herah shudders. She thought that “holds back evil” was bad but that almost sounds worse.

“Yeah, the Vints ruin everything. The Chantry here keeps mages separate from their arvaarads because they think that letting us bond will overthrow the Chantry. That’s not really how it works, but humans are idiots sometimes- no offense to your girl. The humans in Rivain see us as soulmates who are destined to fall in love and spend the rest of their lives protecting each other. I have no idea about any of the other humans like the Avvar or the Chasind.”

“What about elves?” Herah was almost sure she’d heard that elves could have magic too.

“The elves in human cities believe whatever the humans tell them to believe so that they won’t be killed. I’m sure that the Dalish elves in the woods have their own ideas, but you’d end up with an arrow between your eyes before you got close enough to ask any of them.”

Herah is trying to pay attention and remember everything because it all seems very important, but it’s so confusing and it’s a lot all at once. “So my magic will be better now? Because I found her?”

“Not exactly. You’d have to meet her here in the physical realm and, uh, bond with her.”

“How do I bond with her?”

Taashath winces. “I should have known you were going to ask that.” It’s the first time that Herah has ever seen him look uncomfortable.

“What does bond mean?”

“It requires, um, sexual contact. Please don’t ask me to explain the details of that. Your parents will tell you when you’re older.” He looks embarrassed.

Herah rolls her eyes. “I live on a farm. I know what sex is.” 

“Don’t tell your parents that I was talking to you about sex. Wait, no, don’t tell them that I told you not to tell them something. That would be worse. You shouldn’t keep secrets from your parents.” He stands up, avoiding eye contact. “It’s time to practice your shields now.”

 

Herah can’t always find the girl in the Fade but she looks for her every night while she sleeps. The girl’s family calls her Josephine. Josephine has a mother and father and she’s the oldest in her family, just like Herah is, except that she doesn’t have a twin brother. Herah has never met anyone named Josephine before. She thinks it’s a very pretty name.

 

The weather starts to get warmer. Herah’s baby sister Isa learns to walk. Herah starts braiding her hair down her back in the same way that Josephine does. 

She works on learning healing magic while Josephine dreams about tutors who teach her mathematics and writing and geography and so many other things that Herah can barely understand. She memorizes a few phrases that she hears in Josephine’s dreams and repeats them to a trader in the village, who tells her that she was speaking Antivan.

 _Antiva_. It’s a country that she’d barely heard of but now it’s the most important place in Thedas.

She’s in the middle of telling Taashath about all of the fancy clothes and furniture in Josephine’s dreams when he frowns. “She sounds rich. You realize what that means, right?”

Herah had been thinking that Josephine could buy a big house where they would live together with both of their families and lots of toys and books, but it sounds like Taashath has something else in mind.

“Her family is probably nobility. Rich human women are expected to marry rich human men, and all of their friends are rich humans who have connections that could benefit the family. They won’t want her to spend time with you.”

“But she’s my Voice! She has to like me, doesn’t she?”

“She will feel drawn to you, yes. There will be a connection that neither of you can deny but it won’t matter if her family tells her not to see you, assuming you even manage to meet her in the first place. Anything can happen but I don’t want you to get your hopes up too much. I’m sorry.” 

_You’re wrong,_ she thinks firmly. She doesn’t say anything but Taashath can always tell when she’s mad and he makes her meditate until she’s too bored to be angry.

 

Herah finally learns fire magic, in the middle of a clearing where everything flammable has been removed. She doesn’t destroy anything or injure anybody but it's not nearly as fun as she thought it would be.

Josephine sometimes has bad dreams. Herah still can’t actually talk to her or get her attention, but she figures out that Josephine usually calms down if she says nice things and tries to reassure her.

 

Shortly after Herah turns ten, Josephine has recurring nightmares about water. She dreams about drowning, about floods rising until everything is gone. She’s scared and Herah has no idea what to do but she tries to keep her company every night that she can find her. Weeks later, she hears that Antiva City was almost destroyed by a terrible hurricane. 

She decides that she should give Josephine a present when they finally meet each other. In between chores and magic lessons, Herah does odd jobs for her parents and for anyone in the village who is willing to pay her. She saves up all her money for a year and then takes a trip to the big city with her father, where she buys the most beautiful doll that she can find. It has dark hair, like both she and Josephine have, and a dress made of lace. Herah’s father buys her a waterproof skin and a sturdy box to keep the doll safe, just in case it takes a long time for them to meet.

Herah and Josephine start their first menses at age 12, within a few days of each other.

She gets in the habit of talking to Josephine whenever she sees her in the Fade. She talks about her day and sympathizes when Josephine is dreaming about something stressful and lists all of the things she wants to tell her when they meet each other.

 

Karaas starts attending daily services at the Chantry in the village and he’s always in a good mood afterward. He explains that their family is so disconnected from both the Qun and their human neighbors that it’s good to be connected with something larger than himself and besides, it’s nice to have something to believe in. The Chantry sisters were kind of afraid of him at first but they realized that he just wants to pray like everyone else and now they welcome him. Herah doesn’t get it but he seems happy there.

Herah starts reading everything that she can find. Josephine’s family has a lot of books, if her dreams are anything to go by, and Herah is jealous. She saves her money again and buys as many books as possible from the traders who pass through on their way to the city. She reads novels and books of poetry, and books about human politics and history and religion. She reads books that humans wrote about elves and dwarves. They don’t say much about the Qunari and most of what they say isn’t very nice, but her parents don’t have anything nice to say about the Qun either. Herah reads during meals and when she’s supposed to be sleeping and she tries to read while she’s doing chores but her parents always catch her. She sorts the books by subject and stores them in boxes next to her bed.

Josephine starts going on trips with her parents and attending parties and functions. Herah has never seen so many people before but Josephine’s dreams are full of them. She gets taller and curvier almost every night and Herah can’t stop watching her in the Fade and wondering what it would be like to kiss her. She realizes that Josephine has to be too old to have any interest in dolls but she keeps the doll with the lace dress safely tucked away in its box. When she thinks about selling or giving it away, it feels too much like admitting that she and Josephine will never find each other.

Taashath teaches Herah how to use magic to rush forward so quickly that she’s almost invisible. She discovers romance novels and she loves them, even though most of them make her want to cover her face in embarrassment. She hides them under her mattress and reads them secretly when she is sure that nobody is watching.

Josephine’s parents have a long, serious conversation with her. It must be on her mind because she keeps dreaming about it but Herah doesn’t understand enough Antivan to know what they’re talking about. All she can pick out is the word “money” and something about Orlais. 

 

Herah is 17 when the Valo-Kas mercenary company passes through the village. Their leader is the most striking person that Herah has ever seen. Shokrakar is at least as large as Herah’s father and she has a commanding presence before she even opens her mouth. She isn’t wearing a shirt- her breasts are only barely covered and the rest of her skin is marked with tattoos and scars. Herah is in awe.

Shokrakar notices Taashath’s horns and tries to recruit him but he turns her down quickly. He’s too old to fight anymore, he says, but Herah is young and talented and why don’t they talk to her?

She sits down at the kitchen table with Shokrakar and her parents and Herah can’t decide if she’s more excited or more terrified. They drink tea while Shokrakar explains that mages are a valuable addition to a mercenary company but it’s difficult to find a Tal-Vashoth mage who isn’t possessed, or too traumatized to fight, or both, and that they would pay well if Herah is interested. The Valo-Kas could protect Herah from the templars and she would be able to travel and live a life beyond inheriting the farm when her parents die. She tells Herah that she has a few days to decide.

Her mother and father say that they would miss her and worry about her safety, but they understand why she would want to join and they support her decision either way. Taashath says that it would be a valuable opportunity for her to learn and improve her magical abilities. Karaas says that of course she should go for it because she has so much potential and she’s never going to be happy if she stays here.

Herah spends hours worrying about it and meditating and writing lists of pros and cons. She hates fighting and she’s never imagined herself as a mercenary, but there aren’t a lot of career options for a Qunari mage and she doesn’t want to be a farmer for the rest of her life. The templars are also a consideration. They haven’t really been a problem yet because there’s only one templar stationed at the Chantry in the village, and Karaas says that he’s very old and his mind has been destroyed by lyrium to the point where she would have to do magic right in front of him for him to suspect her. The templars from Tantervale are a bigger problem. They almost never come this far away from the city, and Herah doesn’t really fit their mental image of an apostate, but it’s just a matter of time before the wrong person notices something.

It’s the night before Shokrakar asked for a final decision and Herah can’t sleep. When she finally does, Josephine is there. She’s dreaming about an elegant-looking party where she’s trying to dance but she keeps tripping over her dress and everyone is laughing at her. 

“Don’t worry about them,” Herah says. “They’re just being mean and it doesn’t matter what they think.”

Josephine manages to stand up straight and hold her skirts up so that they aren’t in her way. The people aren’t laughing anymore but everyone is still staring at her. She’s wearing her hair up and Herah is briefly distracted by the lines of her neck.

“What do you think I should do? Karaas is right; I’ll hate it if I stay here but I might hate it even more if I go.”

Josephine takes a deep breath and curtsies to a man who just appeared out of nowhere. He bows in return. She starts to dance again and Herah can tell that she isn’t sure of herself but she isn’t stumbling anymore.

“See, I knew you could do it!”

Josephine looks amazing and Herah can’t understand why the man isn’t staring at her. She wonders if he’s a person who Josephine knows in real life, or just an imaginary dance partner conjured up by the Fade. She wonders if Josephine will teach her how to dance once they meet in the real world.

 

She approaches Shokrakar the next morning. “Do you ever go to Antiva?” she asks.

Shokrakar looks surprised but she doesn’t ask Herah to explain her question. “We usually try to stay out of the Crows’ way, but we end up in Antiva every once in a while. We’ll go anywhere if the price is right.”

“I’ll join,” she says. Her voice sounds more confident than she feels.

Shokrakar smiles broadly. “Welcome to the Valo-Kas.”


	2. Chapter 2

Herah sells her book collection and buys a staff and a good pair of boots. She’s never actually used a staff before because Taashath was never taught how to use one either, but he convinces her that it will make it easier for her to cast while fighting and she’ll be able to hit her enemies on the head if nothing else works.

It’s the last night that she will spend with her family. Her mother has cooked her favorite food for dinner but she is too nervous to eat much. Herah’s little sisters are excited for her and they constantly ask questions about what she’s going to be doing, even though she tries to tell them that she doesn’t exactly know.

“I’ll pray for you every day,” Karaas says.

“Good. I'll need it.”

It’s easy to find Josephine in the Fade that night. She’s at some kind of event, wearing a dark purple dress that looks beautiful on her, and she’s trying to smile and stand up straight and remember everybody’s names. “I’m coming for you,” Herah says. “I hope I find you soon.”

 

They leave early in the morning and start heading west. Herah has never seen so many other Qunari before, and it looks like they’re all older than she is. They all look so muscular, too- Herah has never felt so small or weak in her life.

Herah witnesses her first fight that day, but she doesn’t participate. A group of giant spiders try to attack them but the other members of the Valo-Kas manage to kill them before Herah can even draw her staff. It’s terrifying and she can feel her heart racing for hours afterward.

Maybe she’s too weak to handle fighting. She wonders if she made the wrong decision.

After a long and exhausting day of traveling, they stop for the night at a tavern in a city that Herah has never even heard of. The woman behind the counter smiles and waves at them when they enter. None of the humans look surprised to see so many Qunari; they must come here often. 

They sit down at tables and Herah realizes that they take up over half of the seats in the tavern. She supposes that the owners must not mind having Qunari customers if they spend a lot of money. Herah doesn’t know who to sit with so she grabs the nearest empty chair and sits down. The woman on her right turns to her. “You’re the one with magic, right?”

“Yes.” Should she have lied about it? She thinks that she should be honest with the people she’s going to be working with but she is technically an apostate and the Chantry is law here.

The woman tenses but she doesn’t seem too bothered by it. “What happens if you get drunk? Do you catch on fire?”

“I really hope not.”

The woman laughs, surprised. She looks more relaxed now. “Only one way to find out, right? I hope this place has insurance.”

She leaves and comes back with two mugs. She sets one down in front of Herah. “Drink up.”

Herah’s parents don’t drink alcohol and they never allowed their children to drink either, so she has no idea what to expect. The drink tastes better than it smells, but only barely. She manages to take a large swallow without choking.

She can’t tell if the woman is laughing at her or just laughing. “Well, nothing’s on fire yet. I’m Vela. What should we call you?”

“Herah.” She almost adds “It’s nice to meet you” but it seems weird to introduce herself to someone who she’s been traveling with all day.

“'Time', huh?”

“My parents chose it for me.”

“It probably felt like an eternity waiting for you to be born."

Someone else walks up and Vela starts talking to him about what Herah assumes is the job that they just finished. The conversation she was having with Herah must have been over.

She sits there quietly for the rest of the evening and slowly finishes her drink. She thinks about trying to get to know people but they all seem preoccupied with talking to each other. By the time her mug is empty, she feels dizzy and strange. She knows enough about drinking to know that it’s embarrassing to be feeling the effects after only one drink, even though it _was_ a large mug. At least nothing is on fire. She walks upstairs as carefully as possible and manges to take off her boots and collapse onto the bed without attracting much attention. 

Herah gets lost in the Fade that night and she is barely able to walk in a straight line, let alone find Josephine.

 

She learns that most of the Valo-Kas used to be part of the Qun and left, for a variety of different reasons, but there are also Vashoth like her who had never lived under it. All of them were raised to be afraid of mages. She’s largely ignored and the people who do talk to her aren’t unkind, but there’s tension in the air whenever anyone speaks with her, like they’re afraid that she’s full of demons and she’s about to turn into an abomination at any moment.

Josephine has a dream about a party where there are Circle mages who had been hired to perform magic for the entertainment. Herah can’t tell what Josephine thinks about mages in general but she seems fascinated by the magic on display. They aren’t even doing anything particularly difficult. “They probably charged way too much for this,” Herah tells her. “When I find you I’ll do whatever magic you want and you can watch me all day for free.” 

She wonders if Josephine will think that she should be locked up in a Circle.

The first time they stop to buy supplies, Herah makes sure that she has enough money for everything she needs and then she buys paper and ink to write letters back home. She still has money left over and she can’t stop staring at a book she saw at the armor merchant’s stall. It’s one by Genitivi that she’s never read before. She doesn’t see any of the other mercenaries reading for fun, but they already think she’s weird anyway and one book won’t add that much extra weight to her pack.

“Have you decided to buy anything?” the merchant asks. “Remember, all leather armor is on sale this week.”

“How much for the book?”

“What, this? Someone didn’t have enough for the chestplate that he wanted so I let him throw in the book to make up the difference. I was hoping that I could find someone in Orlais to buy it but if you want it now, I’ll give it to you for, say, 20 silver.”

“All right.” She counts out the silver on the counter and slides it toward him. 

“Thanks!” He hands the book to her. “Didn’t think you ox-men were too interested in anything a Chantry brother would have to say. Unless you just want to wipe your ass with something fancier than leaves? I really don’t care what you do with it as long as your money’s good.”

She debates explaining that all of the Qunari scholarly works are written in Qunlat, which she barely understands, and they exist to support a system that would have her chained up and unable to think for herself. She says “You humans are everywhere. I like to read your books to understand how you think.”

“Fair enough. Come back again sometime, we have different sales every week!”

 

She does start reading it that night during dinner. She holds the book with her left hand while she eats with her right hand and nobody else seems to care. It’s not like they would have been talking to her, anyway.

Josephine talks to people all the time. Herah recognizes her family and many of her friends but her dreams are always filled with new people and Herah doesn’t understand how Josephine can keep track of all of them.

Herah participates in more fights but she mostly does support, healing and reviving and casting barriers on everyone else. It would be too risky for her to attempt offensive magic and risk hitting one of the other mercenaries and besides, she’s too busy healing everyone to worry about trying to do anything else. It seems like combat is less scary each time she experiences it.

She sells the Genitivi book after she finishes it and buys another one, and then she sells that book when she finishes it, and soon she’s in the habit of keeping one book on hand to read and another as a backup for when she finishes the first one. Herah tries to be careful about not accumulating too many possessions, but she always carries Josephine’s doll and one or two books in the bottom of her pack. She’d expected to feel homesick by now but she doesn’t, really. Now that she’s accustomed to physical exertion and frequent life-or-death battles, she can’t get enough of visiting new places and learning as much as she can. She’s even gotten used to feeling lonely while she’s surrounded by people. She writes letters back home anyway and gives the name of the city where they’re supposed to be heading toward, in the hope that any letters back to her will get there around the time that she does. 

Taashath tells her that he moved back to Rivain and he’s working as an assistant to a Seer. He wishes her well and reminds her to meditate. Herah’s sister Sanah sends her a very good drawing of a chicken, which she folds in half and uses as a bookmark. Karaas writes that he’s started working for the Chantry in the village. He isn’t allowed to hold any kind of official position but Mother Amelia decided that if he's going to spend so much time there anyway, there’s no reason why they can’t pay him to sweep the floors and wash the windows and repair things.

 

The first time she kills anyone, it’s almost anticlimactic. They’d been hired to track down and kill a small group of assassins before the assassins managed to kill their targets. It was supposed to be a straightforward job, but it turns out that there are more assassins than they were told about and they have some kind of poison on their weapons that Herah has never even heard of. She’s busy trying to stay out of the way and keep everyone else alive and she barely notices that one of them has targeted her until she catches him out of the corner of her eye, trying to sneak around behind her. She hits him on the head with her staff as hard as she can and then shocks him with lightning until it stops his heart. When he’s finally dead, Herah looks around and sees that three of the Valo-Kas fell while she was preoccupied with the assassin. She focuses on reviving them and strengthening everyone’s barriers and she doesn’t really think about the fact that she killed someone until much later, and by that time she’s too hungry and exhausted for any kind of angsty introspection.

After this, Vela offers to teach her how to fight with her staff. She’d been able to figure out how to cast her magic through it without much trouble but she barely knows how to hold it, let alone use it as a weapon. Vela shows her some basic techniques and encourages her to practice until her body memorizes how to do them without thinking about it. Herah notices that the muscles in her arms and shoulders are starting to get more definition from swinging her staff around. Her legs are a lot more toned, too. She hopes that Josephine will like her muscles.

Josephine starts attending the University of Orlais. She dreams about introducing herself on the first day of one of her classes and Herah learns that her full name is Josephine Cherette Montilyet. She whispers the names to herself when nobody is listening and she spends hours trying to figure out how to spell them. 

Herah watches Josephine’s lessons through her dreams and tries to learn as much as she can from them but dreams tend to consist of moments and ideas and not full-length lectures. She thinks about how she’ll never be able to go to school and she’s fiercely jealous. It’s gotten much easier to find Josephine in the Fade now that Herah has a lot of practice at it, but there are many nights when she isn’t there for very long, and sometimes Herah can’t find her at all. She worries that Josephine is having trouble sleeping.

Josephine is at school in Val Royeaux when Herah actually visits Antiva City for the first time. She recognizes the same streets and buildings that she’s seen in Josephine’s dreams but she’s looking at them from a different angle, and she hadn’t really thought about it before but she realizes that Josephine must be much shorter than she is. Antiva is a beautiful country, with the best wine that Herah has ever tasted and more variations on stuffed olives than she’d ever thought were possible. It’s also a dangerous country, where corrupt politicians run everything and there are assassins and pickpockets around every corner. It occurs to her that she knows exactly where Josephine is and she could abandon the Valo-Kas to look for her on her own, but it would be a dangerous and expensive trip and she has no idea what she would do once she actually got there. Even if Josephine was happy to meet a Qunari stranger, Herah would have nowhere to live in Val Royeaux and no way to make money. She doesn’t have much of a plan beyond becoming stronger and more skilled so that when Josephine graduates and is living on her own, Herah can find her and beg to work as her bodyguard. It’s not a great idea but it's the best that she's managed to come up with.

The sex dream that Josephine has occurs when she’s 19. Her partner in the dream is human and male and Herah thinks that she probably shouldn’t be as surprised or hurt by that as she is. Herah has never seen a naked human before. Josephine’s body looks so small but she’s wonderfully curvy and soft-looking and the noises that she makes are intoxicating. It occurs to Herah that she probably shouldn’t be watching this but she’s too busy memorizing the exact way in which Josephine’s back arches in pleasure and how she squeezes her eyes shut. 

The first time that Herah gets herself off thinking about Josephine happens shortly after she wakes up, gasping silently with one hand shoved down her pants and the other one gripping the bed tightly.

 

Two more men join the Valo-Kas. Aban is younger than Herah is, but she is still somehow the weird, dangerous little sister of the group. This is true even though most of them grew up without families. Kaariss doesn’t read as much as Herah does but he enjoys writing. The first time he reads one of his poems to her, she assumes that she doesn’t know enough about poetry to appreciate it so she is very complimentary in order to not embarrass herself. The second time, she notices that the meter of the poem is all over the place. Also, he’s talking about toenail fungus and Herah can’t figure out if it’s a metaphor or if he literally wrote a poem about toenail fungus. The third time, she’s convinced that he's just really bad at this but he seems to enjoy it and it’s not like she could do any better. She encourages Kaariss to keep writing and not give up.

Herah realizes that she’s gotten used to this life, and the girl who lived on a farm with her family seems like another person who she hardly remembers. The Valo-Kas fight and travel and drink together. Sometimes they sleep at taverns or inns, or in a building owned by the person who hired them if they have enough room. Other times they sleep in bedrolls on the ground. Herah spends her free time practicing staff work and magic and meditating in between trying to read as much as possible. The other mercenaries gradually feel more comfortable around her and she starts using more offensive magic whenever she can do it safely. She still doesn’t really fit in with them and she suspects that she never will, but she is starting to understand what _kith_ means.

Josephine dreams about secrets and intrigue. It’s very exciting to watch until she has recurring nightmares about a knife and a staircase and a mask. “It’s not your fault,” Herah tells her over and over, but it doesn’t seem to help. She wonders if Josephine would be horrified to learn that she is the Voice of a mercenary who literally kills people for a living. 

“Who’s Josephine?” Aban asks one morning.

“What?”

“You kept saying her name in your sleep. Is that your lover?” He’s smirking. Herah can feel her face growing hot.

“…sort of?” She doesn’t know how to explain it. She doesn’t talk about Josephine to anyone in the Valo-Kas because they seem nervous about anything related to the Fade.

“Huh. I didn’t think you were interested in anything other than books and magic. Good for you.” He smiles, and he looks surprised but he doesn’t seem to be making fun of her.

“Uh, thank you,” she says awkwardly. He leaves her alone so that she can get dressed and she tries to figure out what just happened.

 

Herah discovers erotic literature. It’s kind of fun to buy smutty novels from uncomfortable human merchants who have a hard time believing that she even knows how to read. Everyone is so used to seeing her holding a book that she can get away with reading about the most obscene sex acts during breakfast as long as she manages to keep a straight face. She can’t stop herself from trying to imagine the things she reads about and thinking about how she and Josephine could do them together. She learns about something called an “Antivan milk sandwich” and she wonders if that’s what Josephine is into.

Josephine graduates from the university and Herah is almost positive that she’s younger than everyone else who is graduating with her. Herah cheers for her in the Fade and promises to buy her a bottle of wine to celebrate whenever they finally meet.

Josephine accepts a job as the ambassador from Antiva to Orlais. She spends even more time at fancy parties and diplomatic functions and her dreams seem to be filled with important, rich people. Herah becomes increasingly aware that she is a mercenary with bloodstained clothes and a large scar on her arm from a a fight with a wyvern, who still carries a doll around everywhere she goes because she can’t bring herself to get rid of it. Most humans assume that she is barely sentient. She reminds herself that Josephine is always horrified and angry when she dreams about humans being cruel to elves and that she is polite to everyone she meets, but Herah is almost positive that she’s never even seen a Qunari in real life. She doesn’t know if it would be worse for Josephine to be afraid of her or to think that she’s just a savage idiot.

The demons in the Fade hear what Herah wants and try to make themselves look like Josephine. “I love you,” says one, in unaccented Trade. It’s wearing something that looks like Josephine’s face but it’s not quite right. “I want to be with you forever.”

“No thank you,” Herah says. “I know you’re reflecting what you think I want, but I’d rather meet her for real and let her choose what she wants from me.” The demon wavers, its form already weakening. She resolves to spend more time meditating to try to avoid this in the future.

Herah knows that it isn’t healthy or normal to spend this much time obsessing about someone she’ll probably never meet. She’s been in love with Josephine for so long that it feels like a fundamental part of who she is, but Josephine has no idea that she even exists. She thinks that it might have been easier if she’d grown up around other mages who also had Voices, if she had some kind of framework for how other people deal with this. Taashath’s experience was completely different; his Voice was identified and located as soon as he started showing magical ability and they were forced to bond with each other once they were old enough. She thinks about how her parents left the Qun so that they could choose their own destiny but she’s still at the mercy of the Fade.

 

The newest member of the Valo-Kas calls herself Asaaranda. She’s an archer with strong, nimble fingers and copper skin dusted with freckles. She flirts with everybody, which isn’t unusual, but she flirts with everybody _including Herah_ and Herah has no idea how to react. The other members of the Valo-Kas seem to have adopted the Qun’s casual attitude toward sex, but not the Qun’s rules about who is allowed to have sex and with whom. They tell explicit stories about conquests that probably never happened and they sleep with each other frequently and nobody cares as long as it doesn’t get in the way of doing their jobs. Herah isn’t sure if nobody has ever propositioned her before because they’re afraid of her magic or because they assume that she wouldn’t be interested, but she’s 25 years old and she’s never even kissed anyone. Asaaranda calls her adorable and clever and says that it’s sexy to watch her use magic and it doesn’t sound like she’s joking.

Herah sometimes wonders if she’s attracted to women because her Voice is female or if the Fade decided that she should have a woman as her Voice because that’s what she prefers. 

It’s late and Herah should probably save her lantern oil and go to bed but she’s still reading and she knows that Asaaranda has been watching her.

“What are you reading?” Asaaranda calls out. Nobody has asked Herah that in years.

“It’s about dwarven history and politics. Surprisingly violent.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in dwarf stuff.”

“I’m not. The merchant practically paid me to take it because nobody else wants to read about this and I figured that I might as well learn something.”

“You’re special, you know that?” Asaaranda grins at her. “There aren’t many people like you.”

“Uh, thanks.”

She walks over to where Herah is sitting and crouches down. Her face is inches away. Herah can feel her heart beating faster. Asaaranda kisses her gently on the cheek and stands up. “I’m going to bed. You’re welcome to join me if you get tired of reading.”

She shouldn’t do it, but she thinks about how she’s never going to meet Josephine and how Josephine won’t want to have anything to do with her, anyway. 

Working up the nerve to put her book down and walk into the tent is the difficult part. The rest is easy. Herah doesn’t really know what she’s doing but she figures it out quickly enough and she manages to make Asaaranda come, so she concludes that she probably isn’t too incompetent at this. When Asaaranda uses her mouth on her, she realizes that this is _exactly_ what she needed and she never should have waited so long. She falls asleep half-dressed, with Asaaranda lying next to her.

Herah tries to avoid Josephine in the Fade but she can’t drown out the sound of her voice.

“It’s not like you’d want me anyway!” she yells, but of course there’s no answer. “Did you expect me to wait forever? What if I never even meet you? I love you but we both know that there’s no place for me in your life.” She sinks down to her knees. The ground below her feels unsteady and she has to will herself not to fall through it. She realizes how stupid and dramatic she must look right now. “I love you,” she repeats. “I’m sorry,” she says, quieter. Demons hover around her, trying to offer her something but she doesn’t know what she wants and the demons are even more confused than she is.

Asaaranda is still asleep when Herah wakes up in the middle of the night. She re-dresses and goes back to her bedroll, where she finds her boot knife. She cuts off her braid. Herah has worn her hair like this ever since she first met Josephine, but Josephine’s hair changes regularly with the fashions in Orlais and she hasn’t had a single braid in years. Herah throws her hair into the river and the moonlight shows the faint outline of it being carried away by the current. Herah sits down on the grass and meditates until dawn.

When Aban wakes up, she asks him to cut her hair to even it out. He doesn’t ask questions but he tells her that she looks good with short hair and it’ll be much easier to take care of now.

Asaaranda pulls her aside once she’s done. “Are you okay?” she asks. She looks worried, not angry.

Herah can’t make eye contact. “There’s someone else. I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

“You and Aban?” She sounds more incredulous than anything else.

“No, not one of us. Nobody you know. Sorry.”

“Herah.” She ducks her head down and forces Herah to look at her face. “I wasn’t expecting anything serious after one night. You know where to find me if you ever want to go again, all right?”

“All right.” She looks her in the eye and smiles, embarrassed. “Thank you.”

 

Aban offers to cut her hair again when it starts growing out but she decides to let it grow long again. She keeps it out of her eyes with a scarf until it’s long enough for a ponytail. 

Josephine’s position as ambassador seems to be going well. She always works hard, which makes Herah feel lazy, but she has a lot of anxiety and self-doubt, too. Herah tells Josephine as often as possible that she’s smart and kind and talented and beautiful and sometimes it almost seems like Josephine understands.

 

Aban dies when Herah is 27. A giant throws a boulder at him and he’s crushed instantly, before Herah can even think about doing any kind of magic to save him. He was younger than her. She should be thinking about his family but instead she’s very aware that she leads a dangerous life and she could easily die before she has a chance to meet Josephine. She sleeps with Asaaranda again that night.

When her hair is long enough to braid again, she braids it to the side so that it falls over her shoulder instead of down her back. 

 

She goes to bed with Asaaranda several more times and each time she feels guilty afterward. She notices that Asaaranda is also sleeping with a few other people in the group and it makes her feel better about it for some reason.

 

Herah is 29 when the Circles fall. She had hoped that this would mean that it’s safer for her to be an apostate, but some of the templars have decided to hunt down anyone who they even suspect of being a mage and it’s somehow more dangerous than ever before. Josephine spends her nights worrying about political ramifications of this that Herah had never even thought of.

 

Josephine has agreed to leave her position as ambassador and work for the Divine. Herah doesn’t exactly know what Josephine’s new job will be, except that it’s in response to the annulment of the Nevarran Accord. She’s making plans to travel to Ferelden. Herah overhears Shokrakar talking about an assignment where they would be providing security for a Conclave in Ferelden and she begs her to take the job and allow Herah to be one of the ones sent there. Shokrakar assumes that it’s because Herah is worried about the fate of mages in general, but she agrees to it.

As they travel to Ferelden simultaneously from different directions, both Herah and Josephine are having trouble sleeping. Josephine isn’t planning to attend the Conclave itself but it’s come up in her dreams and it sounds like she’ll be nearby. This will be the closest that they have ever been to each other. It’ll probably be the best opportunity she’s ever had to actually meet Josephine in person and she has no idea what she’s going to say or do but she can’t wait. 

She’s never seen so many people in one place before. The air is filled with fear and tension and _hope_ , as if everybody knows that something important is about to happen.

 

Herah is being interrogated in a dungeon. Her wrists are in shackles and there’s something wrong with her hand and she’s being accused of killing everybody but she can’t remember what happened. She’d been so hopeful a few days ago but now everything has gone wrong and she’ll be lucky if she escapes with her life.

She realizes that she recognizes one of the women who is interrogating her. She’s seen her before, in Josephine’s dreams. This woman and Josephine have known each other for a long time and she was the one who asked Josephine to come to Ferelden in the first place. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to ask her to introduce Herah to her friend when she’s just been accused of mass murder, but if she manages to survive long enough to prove her innocence-

Somehow, despite everything, Herah is one step closer to finding her Voice and she can’t help but feel hopeful again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Femslash February!

Herah is led outside. Her hand is flaring painfully and it occurs to her that her own body will kill her before the humans do. Cassandra seems to realize this at the same time and her demeanor softens somewhat, but she still regards Herah with something between suspicion and hostility. 

Herah doesn’t know what to do about her hand or the sky but she can at least try to keep Cassandra from turning against her. She tries to present herself as an effective demon-killer who is docile and unthreatening to humans. Herah goes exactly where Cassandra instructs and does everything that she tells her to do. She apologizes constantly, offers to do anything that she can, and even slouches to try to make herself look less imposing. So far, it seems to be working. 

They come upon a group of people who are fighting demons. Someone grabs Herah’s wrist and shoves it forward-

The sensation reminds her of standing up quickly after sitting on the ground for so long that her legs have gone numb, except that it starts in her hand and radiates throughout her whole body. It’s intense to the point of almost being painful, and there’s so much green light that she can barely see anything-

The light in the sky flashes, and then it is gone. The man who grabbed her confirms that her hand fixed the problem, that the green light on her hand and the green light in the sky are connected. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation,” he says. Herah is useful to them. They won’t kill her as long as they need her to seal the rifts in the sky. 

Unless they can chop her hand off and just use it instead? She really hopes that they don’t think of that.

The other man, a dwarf with a fancy-looking crossbow, introduces himself. “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and-”

“Hold on, are you actually _the_ Varric Tethras?”

“The one and only” he says, nodding his head with a flourish. Somewhere behind Herah, Cassandra groans.

“I loved _Hard in Hightown_! It’s such an honor to meet you.”

“Thanks! It’s always nice to talk to a fan.”

She realizes that nothing today is going to make any sense. She can only hope for more good surprises.

The other man, the elf who grabbed her wrist, introduces himself as Solas. Cassandra explains that he is a mage like she is. Herah has met so few other mages in her life; she wants to ask Solas lots of questions and maybe even trade spells, but this isn’t the right time. She notices that he isn’t wearing shoes. His feet are wrapped with some kind of sturdy-looking linen but it can’t possibly be enough to keep them safe from frostbite. She looks at the rest of his clothes and wonders if he can even afford shoes.

They are a small team now, with Herah as the leader. She relaxes considerably, deciding that they probably wouldn’t put her in charge if they were planning to kill her and/or cut her hand off. The next rift that she seals is no less unnerving but she knows what to expect this time, wincing and forcing herself to hold her hand up as the light flashes. 

There are dead soldiers in the mountains and Herah starts to take the boots from one of them. She explains that they should fit Solas’ feet if he keeps the wraps on underneath but he declines. So it’s a preference then, not the result of poverty. Herah doesn’t understand but it’s the least of the strange things that are happening right now. 

The Pride demon is larger and more terrifying than anything that Herah has faced before, in or out of the Fade. Her new team seems to work well together but she’s used to keeping her allies alive before anything else and it takes several minutes and a few near misses before she realizes that she should focus on the rift instead. She thinks that it’s working. She hopes- she doesn’t know what else she can do-

There’s a blinding flash of light and she swears that she can hear someone yell “She did it!” before everything goes dark.

* * *

Herah wakes up in an unfamiliar room. She looks down at her body and tries not to think about how someone must have changed her clothes while she was unconscious.

The door opens. Herah doesn’t recognize the terrified-looking woman who comes in. She tries to be as friendly and unthreatening as possible but it doesn’t seem to help. The woman slams the door behind her and Herah sighs.

She cautiously stands up. Her muscles feel sore and she has a headache and she’s fairly sure that she’s dehydrated, but she’s actually feeling much better than she would have expected to after fighting a giant demon. The palm of her left hand has what looks like a new crease in it, except that this one is glowing with a soft green light. She prods it tentatively with her other hand. Nothing happens. Her hand doesn’t hurt anymore, at least. In fact, it’s easy to forget about the mark when she isn’t actively looking at it.

There’s a chest in the room with her, containing the worn leather armor that she’d been wearing earlier and her pack that she’d taken to the Conclave. They must have confiscated all of her belongings when she was captured after the explosion. Her armor is falling apart and it looks and smells like it was worn while being spit out of the Fade and fighting a lot of demons. She realizes that someone probably bathed her while she was unconscious, too. Somehow, Josephine’s doll is still intact. 

She opens the door of the house and almost shuts it again when she sees that there are crowds of humans outside. Everyone is staring at her but they don’t look scared or angry, more like they’re in awe. Herah winces and tries to walk through as quickly as possible. Some of the humans salute her while others talk about her like she can’t understand what they’re saying. 

The people from earlier are meeting inside the Chantry. Herah is quiet until she’s directly spoken to. She tries to explain that she doesn’t claim to have been saved by the Maker and that she wants to help them in whatever way she can. There’s an argument, after which Cassandra declares that the Inquisition is officially reborn. Herah follows them outside for some kind of ceremony and then back inside. She’s so lost in thought that doesn’t notice at first, but she glances up and-

_Josephine is there._

She’s the brightest thing in the room, literally draped in gold and gleaming in the candlelight. If Herah had read this scene in a book she’d have found it ridiculous, but this is really happening and Herah _knows_ that it’s her because she can feel it in her soul.

Herah stumbles in her surprise and barely avoids falling. She catches a glimpse of Cassandra’s alarmed face as she rights herself and continues to walk toward Josephine.

It’s impossible- No, it’s not impossible because Herah specifically traveled across the ocean in the hopes that this would happen, but she honestly didn’t expect it to work-

She’d imagined that finally meeting Josephine would be overwhelming. Instead it feels like coming inside on a bitterly cold day when there’s a fire going in the hearth. Josephine’s presence is comforting, warming places inside of her that she didn’t realize had gone numb.

Herah can hear Cassandra introducing her to Josephine but she barely pays attention to it. She nods awkwardly in greeting. Josephine can’t seem to take her eyes off of her.

“You’re even taller than I’d heard,” she says, and she looks embarrassed, as if she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Herah stands up as straight as she can. If Josephine is into the height difference thing then she can definitely work with that.

The meeting continues and Herah struggles to pay attention. Josephine informs her, almost apologetically, that the Chantry has denounced the Inquisition in general and Herah specifically. It’s hardly surprising but she worries that somewhere back home, Karaas is being harassed because of his connection with her. There’s a discussion about making contact with different groups and an argument about the best way to seal the Breach. Herah genuinely tries to pay attention but Josephine is so distracting.

Eventually, Herah is left to her own devices. She intends to follow Josephine to her office so that they can speak in private but someone in a mask is already there.

She’s seen Orlesians before but their masks always disturb her, especially the ones that cover the full face. It’s disconcerting to hear someone speaking behind a face that doesn’t move. He’s arguing with Josephine about the land that they’re on, or the building they’re using, or something to that effect. They’ve noticed Herah’s presence and the man looks to her for an answer.

There’s an awkward silence. “But… that’s not fair!” Her voice sounds awkward and quiet. “You should have said something earlier- You’re obviously just trying to…” It’s clear what he’s doing and why, but she doesn’t know enough about property laws or inheritance or whatever the specific rules are to dispute him. It’s not _fair_ , but that isn’t a good enough argument.

Josephine steps in gracefully and rescues her. She speaks in a soft voice that would almost sound soothing to someone who wasn’t paying attention, but her meaning is clear. Herah watches what she can see of the man’s face and she can tell the moment when he changes his mind. He almost looks guilty as he takes his leave. Herah’s always thought of herself as having decent people skills, especially for someone who most people tend to be afraid of, but what Josephine did was some kind of art. 

She thinks about the fact that if they were part of the Qun, her Voice would be doing all of the talking for both of them.

They’re alone together except for the woman in the corner of Josephine’s office, but she’s preoccupied with her own work. This is the first time that Herah will be able to speak with Josephine one-on-one.

After years of hazy and distorted images in the Fade, it’s strange and wonderful to see Josephine in person. She can make out the texture of her hair, the details of her clothes, the way her hand curves gracefully around her pen, even the edges of her fingernails (which are short and neatly trimmed, but that’s probably just for writing). She’d never realized before that Josephine has freckles and a gap between her teeth. Herah can even _smell_ her. She doesn’t have a strong scent—it’s too cold in Haven for any of them to be sweating a lot—but there’s a hint of something vaguely herbal, possibly oil that Josephine uses on her hair to try to combat the humidity in Ferelden.

What is she even supposed to say to her? She doesn’t think that _You’re even lovelier on this side of the Veil_ would go over well. Herah had imagined scenarios where she finally meets Josephine and they immediately profess their undying love for each other, and others where Josephine rejects her at first glance. For some reason, she hadn’t prepared for Josephine to be _polite_.

Josephine’s eyes are so pretty. They’re a goldish-brown color- or would that be considered hazel? Herah can even see her individual _eyelashes_. They’re standing close enough that Herah would just have to bend down and she could kiss her. 

“How are you finding Haven?” Even her Voice’s _voice_ is beautiful. Of course it is.

“As an emergency base of operations, it seems to be working well enough for now. I think we could all do without the cold, though.”

“Yes! I can’t help but miss Antiva.” She sounds wistful, but in a graceful way.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t so windy.”

Josephine nods in agreement. Herah finally found her Voice and they’re talking about the weather.

“Forgive me, but we haven’t met before, have we?” Josephine asks the question slowly, as if she isn’t sure whether she should be asking it.

“I… don’t think so, no.” It sounds less absurd than _Of course not, I’ve been waiting for you my whole life._

“You’re such a striking woman; I’m sure that I would have remembered you. It’s just that there’s something familiar…” she trails off, looking flustered. Herah feels a guilty thrill at seeing her poise falter.

“Honestly, I feel the same way.” It sounds pathetic to her ears but Josephine just smiles in response.

“I shall keep that in mind.” She looks more confident now. “But please, make yourself comfortable.” She gestures toward a bench. Herah doesn’t want to move away from her but she forces herself to sit down. 

“Everyone is talking about whether or not you were really saved by the Maker. What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” It’s the same answer she gave during the meeting earlier and she suspects that she’ll be answering this question many more times. “I guess ‘Herah the Herald’ is catchy, but I have no idea if the Maker ever existed, let alone why he would choose me if he did.”

“What do you mean?” She doesn’t look angry or surprised by Herah’s lack of belief.

“The Conclave was full of devout people; the Maker had so many better options. Why choose someone who isn’t even Andrastian? If he wanted to make a statement by choosing a non-human, an elf would have made more sense. If he’d wanted a brave warrior to fight for him or a charismatic leader, I’m sure there were other people there who would have been more appropriate.”

“You sell yourself too short-”

“No, I know that I have skills and abilities, but nothing that would really make me a good Herald of Andraste. I think the fact that it was me means that it had to have been a random accident. Unless the Maker has plans that we don’t understand?”

“I’m sure that he does.” 

 

When Herah finally leaves the office, she feels strangely empty. She doesn’t know what she expected. She met Josephine and Josephine seems receptive to flirting, at least, but she doesn’t know where to go from here. It’s anticlimactic but it’s also scary and thrilling at the same time, and Herah can’t stop overanalyzing every moment of their conversation and thinking of other things that she should have said. 

 

Herah goes to bed early that night. She feels silly for being exhausted when she hasn’t even been fighting but she’s technically still recovering from the fight with the Pride demon so she probably has an excuse. Whatever medicine or magic that was used to heal her stopped her from dreaming before, but she dreams easily that night. Demons seem to be fascinated by the mark on Herah’s hand, swarming around her wherever she goes. She follows the sound of Josephine’s voice out of habit until she sees that Josephine is dreaming about kissing Herah. In her dream, Herah is more beautiful and also taller and more muscular than she’s ever been in real life. One of her hands is holding tight to Josephine’s waist while the other is tangled possessively in her hair. Is this how Josephine sees her? It takes longer than it should for Herah to tear her eyes away and leave the dream. She resolves to stay out of Josephine’s dreams from now on.

 

The mark on Herah’s hand is still there when she wakes up, even though it’s not very noticeable when she isn’t actively closing a rift. Shouldn’t she be bandaging it or otherwise keeping it covered? Solas didn’t mention anything like that, but it’s hard not to think of it as an open wound. The first few times she washes her hands, she does so very carefully, wondering if water is pouring through to the Fade somewhere. Is it safe to use soap? The mark probably can’t get infected, can it?

She gives in and asks Solas, who explains very patiently that her hand might react when she’s near a rift but otherwise she should be able to use it normally. 

Solas is one of the strangest people that Herah has ever met. He always seems surprised when she says or does anything even slightly intelligent and it’s insulting until she realizes that he’s a cynic who expects the worst from everyone. After that, it’s easy to lose hours at a time talking with him about magic and complaining about humans. He never seems to wear shoes but his feet always look healthy and she eventually stops worrying about them.

Solas explains that as far as he knows, the magic behind Voices is very old, predating even the Veil. During the time when everyone had magic, partners were drawn to each other until they bonded and formed mutually-beneficial relationships in order to strengthen and protect both of them. Now, mages are they only ones who can sense their Voices and they can only do it from the Fade.

“So this is all wrong, then? This isn’t how it’s supposed to be?” 

Solas looks pensive. “That’s one way to look at it, yes.”

“That’s… actually kind of comforting.”

“What do you mean?” She’s apparently surprised him once again.

“The power imbalances, the awkwardness… it wasn’t designed to be like this. It’s just a remnant of a system that doesn’t exist anymore and all we can do is try to figure out how to live with it and do the best we can.”

“An interesting perspective.” Sometimes, _interesting_ means that she has a good idea and other times it means he thinks she’s full of shit but he’s being polite about it. She can’t tell which one he means this time.

Something occurs to her. “Have you met your Voice?”

His face is blank. “My Voice is dead.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. He doesn’t seem like he wants to discuss the subject anymore.

 

The Hinterlands are _huge_. Every time Herah thinks that she’s explored most of them, she finds out that there’s a new area that she didn’t even know about. Everyone there seems to be fighting everybody else and Herah suspects that they don’t even remember why they’re doing it. 

The job of Herald of Andraste is actually not all that different from being a mercenary. They travel, camp, fight, and accept jobs from whoever is willing to pay (and sometimes from people who can’t afford to pay them). The main difference, other than the part of her job that involves closing rifts, is that Herah is the squad leader. She has almost no experience in leading anybody to do anything but the mark on her hand seems to make the other members of the Inquisition think that they should trust her, no matter how many times she gets them lost in the woods. So many people believe that Herah is important, just because of an accident that she can’t even remember. She’s been different for most of her life but she’s never been _special_ before and it’s a surreal experience.

In addition to the fighting, refugees, and bears, the Hinterlands also have astrarium puzzles that are a lot of fun to figure out. Varric teases Herah for getting overly excited about them but he doesn’t complain when they lead to a hidden cache that contains a very nice dagger.

Varric isn’t exactly like the person Herah expected from reading his books, but he’s very close. She actually assumed that he would have a problem with Qunari after what happened in Kirkwall but he seems more comfortable around her than most of the humans do. He’s friendly and very easy to talk to, and Herah can’t decide if this is a deliberate maneuver to get people to let their guard down or if he’s good at what he does because he’s naturally good with people. 

After Herah loses at Diamondback so badly that she has to buy his drinks for the next week, she decides that she should be slightly more guarded around him.

 

Cassandra seems surprised to learn that Herah isn’t Andrastian.

“I don’t know what I believe, really. I’ve never really had strong religious beliefs of any kind but I suppose that anything could be possible. There’s a lot that I don’t know about the world. If the Maker really did put this mark on my hand, I will do my best to be worthy of it.”

“You don’t believe in the Qun, either?” Cassandra looks puzzled.

Herah almost laughs out loud. “Oh, no, of course I don’t. I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you if I did. My parents left that behind before I was born.”

Cassandra is kind and honorable and she’s straightforward in a way that Herah respects. They’re not quite becoming friends, but it doesn’t take long for Herah to realize that she trusts Cassandra implicitly.

 

Josephine is very busy and Herah knows that her work is important, but she still tries to talk to her whenever they’re in Haven. Josephine, for her part, always seems happy to see Herah. She realizes that Josephine is someone who she would want to be friends with even if they weren’t soulmates.

Herah listens with rapt attention while Josephine tells her about her family. She is already familiar with most of Josephine’s immediate family but there seem to be a lot of important details that never made it into her dreams. 

“Where did you grow up?” Josephine asks in return. She’s probably trying to be courteous but it’s hard not to feel excited that Josephine is interested in hearing about her life.

“Tantervale, basically. Technically, I grew up on a farm outside of a tiny village that’s about half a day’s trip from Tantervale.”

“Are there a lot of Qunari there?”

“Not really, just my family. My mentor stayed there while I was younger but he moved away.” 

“You were never part of the Qun, were you? How did your family end up in the Free Marches?”

Herah has told this story a few times before and it always sounds ridiculous. “My parents lived in Par Vollen but they moved away when they left the Qun. From what they told me, they traveled around for a while and took whatever work they could find but they were looking for somewhere to settle down.” She pauses. Josephine looks sincerely interested, so she continues. “They happened to arrive at the village right after there had been a huge fire. A lot of buildings were damaged and most of the people who could’ve helped rebuild were either dead or injured.”

“It’s very fortunate that they came along!”

“I can only imagine how it looked at the time.” She’s heard this part of the story from some of her old neighbors, who are now embarrassed to admit that they were afraid the first time they met her parents. “They’d lost almost everything and then these two strange Qunari just showed up out of nowhere.” Her father in particular would have been very muscular back then and he never went anywhere without his greatsword. “Everyone was expecting them to steal whatever was left in the town and kill the survivors.”

“Oh!” Josephine looked horrified. “What happened?”

“My parents couldn’t believe that none of the humans from the city were coming to assist them, so they offered to help. Neither of them really had any construction experience but they were strong and healthy and they took orders well. By the time everything was finished, they’d been staying there for months and they were friends with almost everybody.” Herah shrugs. “They planted vegetables in the spring and they’re still living there to this day.”

“That’s a remarkable story.” She looks genuinely happy. Josephine’s smile is so beautiful. “I’d love to meet your parents sometime. They sound like wonderful people.”

 _Oh._ “Uh, yeah, I think you’d get along with them very well, actually.”

 

Josephine’s dreams of Leliana were always fond, but she’s much more harsh and ruthless in real life. Herah wonders how she could have become friends with someone as kind and gentle as Josephine. She hopes that Josephine will be a good influence on her.

Cullen looks like he’s never gotten a full night’s sleep in his life. Herah suspects that he’s afraid of the idea of a mage who not only has authority over him but is physically taller than him, but he has the decency to try to hide it.

Haven has other people too, like Flissa who seems to believe that Herah was chosen by the Maker as a test but can’t decide whether his followers are passing or failing it, and Minaeve, who is committed to helping others even after the tragedy that she’s endured. Herah tries to talk with everyone and reassure them that she’s sealing the rifts as quickly as she can, but they still look afraid. 

 

Herah’s been to Val Royeaux a few times before, but with the exception of the bookstore in the market and a couple of restaurants, she never really enjoys it. The city seems like a gaudy microcosm of everything that is wrong with Orlais. 

When she arrives, people are staring at her slightly more than usual. This can’t be a good sign. She tries to explain to the Chantry that she’s no threat to them but it only seems to make things worse. The whole situation seems to be more complicated than she'd realized.

 

Vivienne is intimidating. Her hat with the horns is strangely flattering but it’s odd to think that humans consider horns to be a sign that someone is dangerous. Herah quickly realizes that they disagree about almost everything and that Vivienne, unlike Cassandra, seems disinclined to be diplomatic about it.

 _Common ground is the start of all negotiations._ It sounded so easy when Josephine said it but Herah has no idea how to put it into practice. She manages some success by offering to find lost books for Vivienne. If nothing else, they are both horrified at the idea of important books being destroyed by the elements or careless bandits.

Herah tries to find more common ground. “Your lover, Duke Bastien, is he your Voice? The way you talk about him…” she trails off at the sight of Vivienne’s stern expression.

“Surely you haven’t forgotten that the Chantry considers the very idea of ‘Voices’ to be dangerous.”

Shit, that’s right. She vaguely remembered hearing something about that. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“Of course you didn’t, darling; as an apostate you lack even the most basic education. You would do well to remember that this is not an appropriate topic for civilized conversation, especially not out in the open. See that you don’t make the same mistake again.”

“Right, yes. I’m sorry, Madame Vivienne.” She hurries away.

 

Should she have told Josephine yet? It seems like it’s both too early and too late. She’d wanted to let Josephine get to know her as a person before disclosing that she spent twenty years watching her dreams, but now it seems like it will be awkward that she let it go so long without telling her. The Chantry issue makes things even more difficult. Josephine doesn’t seem to be especially devout but she recognizes the importance of the Chantry and Herah’s relationship with them is strained as it is. She can’t imagine how people would react if it was widely known that she’d met her Voice in the physical world.

 

Sera is _hilarious_. She’s immature and offensive but she’s also talented and witty and consistently fun to be around. Sera isn’t subtle about the fact that she finds Herah attractive, either. She stares at Herah’s body shamelessly but not in a predatory way like a man would. She seems to realize immediately that Herah is only interested in Josephine but this doesn’t bother her; she just asks periodically if Herah’s gotten off with Josephine yet and scoffs at her answers.

 

And what if Josephine rejects her, after everything? What if she thinks that it’s too much to try to live up to the expectations of someone who’s been waiting for her for so long? Herah wants to tell Josephine that she could never disappoint her but it’s a lot to ask of anyone to become bonded with a mage--a Qunari mage- a _female_ Qunari mage--even for someone as patient and wonderful as Josephine.

 

They recruit another warrior, the Warden Blackwall. Herah isn’t sure what to think of him yet. He mostly keeps to himself but he seems like a good man.

 

She decides not to tell Josephine yet. She’s been waiting long enough that a little more time won’t make a difference and besides, they both have too many other things to worry about right now.


	4. Chapter 4

_Shokrakar,_

_I’m not dead. I remember who I am, even though I don’t remember anything about falling out of the Fade. I was a prisoner at first but they let me go and now I’m working with the humans. The person who was supposed to pay us died in the explosion. The ones who are left are being difficult about payment because they have too many other things to worry about right now, but they did agree to help find our missing kith. It looks like this is going to be a long process and I don’t know if or when I will be able to come back, so consider this my resignation, at least for now. Please give everyone my regards and let me know if there’s anything else I can do._

_Adaar_

_Karaas,_

_I’m alive! I wanted to open with that. Other than the (magical? holy? unholy?) hole in my hand, I’m in good health. I don’t have the time or energy to write to everybody right now but please pass on the news of my survival and give everyone a hug for me. How are you doing? Is everybody else okay? Have the rifts affected the Free Marches?_

_You might have heard already that they’re calling me the Herald of Andraste. I have no idea whether or not it’s true. I remember arriving at the Conclave, and then I was in shackles in a cell and the explosion had happened. People seem to believe that I was saved by the Maker himself but it doesn’t seem very likely, does it? Out of everyone there, I don’t know why he would choose me. Do you know? If I was actually saved by the Maker and/or Andraste, can you pass along my thanks?_

_You probably also know that the Chantry is in a lot of turmoil right now. People keep looking to me as if I have the answers and I’m really scared. I’m grateful that you’re nowhere near any of this but I can’t help wishing that you were here. You’d know what to do, or at least you would have more of an idea. If nothing else, your company would make everything easier. I’ve been away from home for so long and it’s never hurt as much as it does now._

_I can’t believe I didn’t lead off with this, (and that shows how worried I am about the Chantry stuff) but I met Josephine! She also works for the Inquisition. I haven’t told her yet. I heard that the Chantry thinks that it’s dangerous for a mage to meet their Voice and I’m already considered a heretic by a lot of people, so I don’t want to make things worse. What do you think I should do?_

_I love you. Stay safe._

_Herah_

_Herah,_

_It was such a relief to receive your letter! Everyone was saying that everybody who attended the Conclave was dead, but I should have known that “everybody” wouldn’t include you. You’ve never really been able to fit in (I say this with nothing but affection) and it sounds like it’s finally working in your favor._

_What is Josephine like in real life? Are you getting along with her? Voices are kind of a complicated issue, theologically-speaking. They aren’t actually mentioned anywhere in the Chant of Light but it’s generally understood that if a mage and their Voice bond, it’s a threat to the Chantry. One assumes that people are uncomfortable with the idea of mages who are protected from demons and don’t need the Circle to protect them, but Voices are still controversial even now that the Circles have fallen. Technically, there’s no official reason why you can’t be a bonded mage in good standing with the Chantry, but the reality is that it’s going to make you unpopular at best. You should still definitely tell Josephine (you’re going to tell her, right?) but be careful not to let too many other people find out._

_I’m flattered that you seem to think I have the ear of the Maker Himself, or that I’m privy to information that you wouldn’t have even though you work with the former Right and Left Hands of the Divine. I don’t have to tell you that these are difficult times for everyone. I imagine that they’re all hoping you’ll be the one blamed if something goes wrong, but you’re also in the position to accomplish great things. Don’t forget that Andraste herself came from humble origins. I understand why you’re skeptical about the rumors that you were chosen, but you are kind and hardworking and the smartest person I’ve ever met. I don’t think Andraste could have chosen any better._

_It’s been quiet here, even though the chickens have been behaving strangely ever since the rifts opened up. I wonder if they know something that we don’t? Aram has been talking to another mercenary company and I think he’s hoping to join them and travel the world like you did. I hope he realizes that he won’t necessarily end up as a religious figurehead. Mother and Father are very proud of you and also very worried. They said to tell you to be careful, but instead I’m going to tell you to not be afraid to do the right thing, even when it is difficult, because I think you need to hear that more._

_Karaas  
_

 

The messenger waiting outside the Chantry speaks with an accent that Herah can’t quite place. He introduces himself as Cremisius Aclassi and explains that he’s there as a representative of his mercenary company, who want to find out more about possibly joining the Inquisition. When she asks about their leader, he mentions that “The Iron Bull” is Qunari. It’s curious that he didn’t bring this up right away; humans almost always want to tell her about any other Qunari they’ve met, no matter how briefly or how long ago. She feels like she should be able to tell whether or not this is a trap. Vivienne had also sent a messenger to invite Herah to meet her, but that invitation was to a party that was attended by a lot of people, not to a beach in the middle of nowhere. She decides that there’s no harm in making contact with them, at least.

 

They arrive at the Storm Coast and she spots Krem in the middle of the fight, swinging a giant maul like it weighs nothing. It’s reassuring to know no matter what he led her into, he’s in it just as much as she is.

The captain of the Chargers is almost definitely Tal-Vashoth. The fact that he isn’t wearing a shirt is enough of a giveaway in and of itself, but his tattoos are also similar to the ones that she’s seen on people who were once part of the Qun. Herah is busy trying to keep barriers on everybody and do as much damage as she can so she isn’t able to watch the Chargers as much as she’d like to, but they seem like competent fighters who finish the battle quickly and cleanly.

She approaches their leader after it’s over. He and Krem are yelling back and forth at each other, the sort of easy banter that she didn’t really appreciate until she left the Valo-Kas to work with strangers. 

Bull mentions that Krem is from Tevinter, which explains the accent. Herah feels herself tense. She’s never met anyone from Tevinter before but she’s read countless books that condemned its corruption and decadence. Most Tal-Vashoth still seem to hate anything associated with the country, even after they’ve left the rest of Qunari culture behind.

Bull seems pleased to see that the Inquisition is being run by a fellow Qunari mercenary. He stands up to greet her and they start to discuss the terms of his offer. She's gotten used to bending her neck to talk to everybody but it's nice to be able to look someone in the eye for once.

He mentions Josephine when Herah brings up payment. She tries to remind herself that Josephine is often the public face of the Inquisition, that a lot of people know who she is. His words are casual but there’s a subtle tension in his tone that Herah dismisses as a long-ingrained habit until he says “There’s one other thing. Might be useful, might piss you off.”

_What?!_

“Ever heard of the Ben-Hassrath?”

Time seems to slow down. In the time it takes to breathe in and step one foot back, Herah remembers the stories she’d heard from Mother and Father and Taashath and at least half of the Valo-Kas about friends who were tortured by Ben-Hassrath re-educators or had their minds destroyed by qamek. She’d learned that the Ben-Hassrath’s purpose is to track down “defectors” and deal with threats, including mages. Herah has heard many times that the Qunari don’t waste anything but she’s hoping that they’ll consider her too dangerous to live.

She backs away without consciously thinking about it, holding her staff in front of her and moving closer to the sea because she’d rather take her chances with the water and the rocks. She doesn’t have much mana left after the battle but she’s going to go down fighting if the other alternative is being captured. 

She registers the position of the rest of the “Chargers.” They’re most likely all Qunari agents and there’s no way that she could defeat them, even with help from her team. If nothing else, she could try to invite a demon to possess her and hope that it would kill enough of them to give her friends a chance to escape.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bull says, holding up his hands. The gesture is more respectful than patronizing. Herah relaxes her stance but her mana is still ready, simmering just below her skin. “If the Ben-Hassrath wanted to kill you or bring you in, we would’ve done it a long time ago.” His voice is maddeningly calm.

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“No offense, but the Breach is much more of a threat than you are. We’re offering to work with you for the good of everybody.”

“For now.”

He doesn’t deny it.

Bull seems to realize that she’s having an internal argument with herself and he patiently waits for her to finish. If the Qun wanted her dead, this would have been the time and place to do it. They already know about her and rejecting this offer won’t change that. There’s no guarantee that they haven’t already infiltrated the Inquisition. Would it be safer to keep him with her, where her people can keep an eye on him? Is she seriously considering letting a Ben-Hassrath agent stay at Haven? 

She notices that Krem has come back from opening the casks. “Are you even a real Vint?” she asks. It’s a strange lie for a Qunari spy to tell, especially here in the South.

He seems confused by the question. “I haven’t been there in years but my family’s Tevinter going back as far as anyone can remember, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Bull cuts in, “He’s not a spy. I’m the only Qunari here.”

Krem doesn’t look surprised by this information. 

“You knew that he was Ben-Hassrath and you still trust him?”

Krem shrugs awkwardly in his armor. “He’s all right. Better than the last asshole I worked for.”

She doesn’t doubt that Bull is telling the truth about his affiliation with the Qun. There’s no way that a Tal-Vashoth would claim to be Ben-Hassarath unless they had a death wish, but there has to be more to this story. 

She stares at Krem, as if he has an answer for her. His hair was neatly combed when she met him back in Haven but it’s been flattened by the rain and his face is still red from exertion. He looks exhausted, and like he’s bored by the standoff his boss is involved in but he’s too polite to speak up. If he trusts Bull, does that mean that she should also give him a chance? She can’t believe that she’s putting her faith in a Tevinter expat with a giant maul, but the odds of a Qunari agent being willing to fight alongside a Vashoth mage seem somehow better if he’s also friends with a Vint.

“All right, you’re in. Leliana’s people are going to keep a close eye on you and everything you send back is going through her. Don’t make me regret this.”

He grins. It isn’t deliberately predatory but it doesn’t have to be. “Looking forward to working with you.”

He makes a joke about blood magic that barely even makes sense and that should be the end of it, but then Herah remembers that the Storm Coast has more astrariums and more of those weird shards she’s been collecting, not to mention some rifts and a group of bandits that she should probably do something about. 

She sighs. This is going to be a very long week.

 

She ends up spending almost two weeks exploring the Storm Coast with Bull in her group. He fights well, she’ll give him that much, but he doesn’t act at all like she would expect a Ben-Hassrath agent to act and it just makes her even more suspicious. She definitely hadn’t anticipated how _annoying_ he would be. She practically has to drag him away before he picks a fight with a dragon who is busy fighting a giant. 

“Come on, we can take her!” Bull is entirely too excited about the idea.

“But that’s a _high dragon_! Our gear isn’t even close to what we would need for something like this and we don’t have nearly enough potions ready!” 

“All right,” he says, not even bothering to disguise his disappointment. “Maybe next time?”

“Maybe.” She wonders how he’s managed to stay alive this long.

 

He’s even worse when she’s trying to solve one of the astrarium puzzles.

“You should finish the outline first.”

“I know what I’m doing.” She’s almost got it, she knows it. Just a few more connections and-

Damn it.

Herah starts over, trying to fill in the top part before she completes the bottom. It looks like it’s going to work, but-

“Do the outside and then fill in the inside.”

She tries two more times, with no success. Finally, she starts by connecting the stars around the outside of the constellation. After that, it’s easy to complete the rest of the puzzle. The constellation lights up and the astrarium shines a beam of light off in the distance.

She looks over at Bull, expecting him to be obviously smug, but he’s busy cleaning his fingernails with a knife. 

If he’s going to be reasonable about it then she supposes that should swallow her pride. “Thank you for your help,” she says politely. “I should have listened to you sooner.”

He glances up at her, nonchalant. “No problem, Boss.” 

 

The trip would be unbearable if it weren’t for Solas. She always enjoys his company, but it’s especially satisfying to hear him argue with Bull about the Qun and refuse to let the subject go, no matter how much Bull tries to dodge his questions. He seems to hate the Qun almost as much as Herah does. After a particularly ugly argument that ends with Solas defending the Tal-Vashoth after Bull tried to claim that they were all savages, she catches Solas’ eye and mouthes _thank you_. Solas smiles and nods his head in return.

 

* * *

 

It’s a relief to get back to Haven. Herah has remained steadfast in her decision to avoid Josephine’s dreams but it means that her nights are more lonely now, especially when she doesn’t see her during the day. She’s tempted to go straight to her once they return, but she forces herself to clean up first. She is not going to meet Josephine smelling like sweat and blood and seawater. 

Everything seems better once she walks into Josephine’s office. It’s not like she wasn’t gone for long stretches of time while she was in the Hinterlands, but this trip was particularly difficult.

“Mistress Adaar,” she says, standing to greet her. The soft warmth settles into her bones and Herah can feel herself relax. 

“It’s good to see you again, Josephine.”

“How was the Storm Coast?”

“Rainy.” Shit, she’s talking about the weather again. “We recruited a mercenary company to join the Inquisition.”

“Yes, I’d heard that their leader--The _Iron Bull_ , was it?--is a Ben-Hassrath agent. It is my understanding that this puts you in an uncomfortable position, as a mage who has never lived under the Qun."

Herah could kiss her right then and there. She’s gotten accustomed to dealing with humans who think that she’s a Qunari spy who has been sent to convert the South, but for Josephine to not only trust Herah’s allegiance but to understand the nuances of her situation- It seems like Josephine is more knowledgeable about the Qunari and the Tal-Vashoth every time Herah speaks with her, actually. She almost suspects that Josephine is studying when she’s away from Haven and the thought makes her heart swell.

“I don’t think Bull sees himself as having anything in common with me, but I imagine that he would try to drag my parents back to Par Vollen if he ever met them.”

“Oh!” She looks horrified.

“And I’m a mage, so he probably thinks that I should either be bound and controlled or just killed, but he said that the Qun wants to work with us instead. Honestly, I still don’t trust him.”

“Why recruit him, then?” She doesn’t sound accusatory, just curious.

“The Qun already knows about us. If they want to infiltrate the Inquisition, they will. They might have already done it. At least this way we know one of the people who we should be watching, and we’ve got a solid mercenary company working for us.”

“I will make sure that Leliana is aware of your concerns.” Josephine is as polite as always but Herah is worried that she thinks she’s making a mistake. The Inquisition just hired a group of people led by someone who is untrustworthy, and they’re apparently paying them a lot of money. Herah would think that she was an idiot, too.

“I know it’s not an excuse but I was afraid and it seemed like a good idea at the time. I’m sorry.” She drops her eyes, unwilling to meet Josephine’s gaze. “We can fire them if the war council thinks it’s a bad idea.”

“No, I can see where you’re coming from. If the Qun genuinely wants to work with us to stop the Breach, this could lead to a lasting relationship that would be beneficial for everyone.” Herah glances up and sees that Josephine is smiling warmly.

She feels foolish and guilty when she catches herself wishing that they were bonded already so that she could know for sure how Josephine feels about this. She tries to remind herself that even though Josephine seems to enjoy her company, and even if Josephine feels some romantic and/or sexual attraction toward her, bonding is almost definitely too much to ask of her.

None of this stops Herah from flirting with Josephine whenever she’s in Haven. At least, she tries to flirt with Josephine. She doesn’t really have much experience with flirting so she doesn’t know if what she’s doing counts, but she tells Josephine that she’s beautiful and talks about how much she enjoys spending time with her and brings her food when she’s been working too long. Josephine seems to like it, so it must count.

 

* * *

 

Redcliffe is honestly kind of disappointing. Herah had been looking forward to being surrounded by other mages who aren’t trying to kill her, but the apostates in Redcliffe barely acknowledge her. When they do, they obviously see her as the Herald of Andraste and not someone who is in any way similar to them.

There is a house with skulls, rows of them on shelves. Herah thinks about the shards that she’s been obsessively collecting. She once walked into a burning house to retrieve one, even though she still doesn’t understand what they are. Does this new information mean that she should stop looking for shards, or that she should double down on her search so that the Tranquil didn’t die in vain? Either way, she needs to learn more about them.

At least the bookseller has a lot of books that she’s never read before.

 

The magister and his son speak with an accent that’s similar to Lieutenant Aclassi’s, but without his warmth. Herah is afraid. There is something big and wrong going on and it’s barely even hidden but she still has no idea what is happening, or what she should do.

Herah meets a man who has a brand on his forehead. The experience of speaking with him is both sadder and less unsettling than she’d expected. She’s never met anyone like him before, but she can’t stop thinking about the skulls. She wants to tell him that she’s going to do everything possible to avenge his brothers and sisters. She wants to help him in any way that she can.

He asks to work for the Inquisition and she immediately agrees to hire him, almost overjoyed at the idea that he’s still able to _want_ something. He seems… satisfied with the job offer, if he can even feel satisfaction.

 

Maybe it’s because everybody else in Redcliffe seems to be lying to her, but the man in the Chantry makes her uncomfortable almost immediately. He even has the audacity to criticize her for not following his vague and suspicious instructions quickly enough. 

She helps him fight off the demons but that isn’t enough to stop him from making fun of her. “You don’t even know how it works, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom, rift closes!”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.” She realizes that she’s snapping at him but it’s hard not to feel insulted. Herah has been working with Solas to try to understand the magic in her hand, but it’s unlike anything else that has ever been seen before. She’d assumed that she could be excused for not knowing the exact details of how it works yet.

 

They make their way back to Haven. As soon as Herah steps foot in the Chantry, she’s rushed to a war council meeting to discuss the blatant trap that she has been invited into. Josephine is worried for her but they need to work with the mages to seal the Breach, not to mention that the mages are in a desperate situation and nobody else may be able to help them. 

Dorian, the arrogant Tevinter mage from the Chantry in Redcliffe, dramatically bursts into the room in the middle of the meeting and announces that he will be joining her, because of course he will.

 

Josephine sees them off at the gates. “Be safe,” she says, and she could be addressing the whole party but she’s looking straight at Herah. She knows very well that they aren’t bonded but Herah swears that she can feel the worry coming from her. 

“I’ll do my best,” she replies. Josephine doesn’t look any less worried.


	5. Chapter 5

Herah walks into the meeting with the magister, head up and her shoulders back, trying to stand as tall as possible. Her hair is still in a side-braid out of habit, while her face is thick with vitaar and she’s wearing new armor made from the hides of bears that she’s killed. 

There’s a strange, unpleasant odor. She wonders if this is what blood magic smells like. She notices that Tevinter masks are somehow more disturbing than the Orlesian ones.

Herah is in the middle of trying to ask about the Venatori and what was supposed to happen with her mark when Dorian makes yet another grand entrance and draws all the focus in the room to himself. Yes, that had been the plan all along, and it’s not as if Herah _wanted_ to be the center of attention, but he doesn’t have to be so dramatic about it.

There’s yelling and posturing and grand dramatic statements, and strange magic that makes Herah’s hand burn, and-

Something is very wrong.

“Where are we?” she asks, but it’s a mostly rhetorical question. The location that she and Dorian have found themselves in looks like the dungeon of some kind of castle. It’s vaguely familiar, now that she thinks about it.

Dorian seems to realize surprisingly quickly that they went into the future. It’s suspicious, actually. Then again, she’d never even thought about time travel before all of this and Dorian has spent years studying this magic, so he probably understands the intricacies of it better than she ever will.

They make their way through the castle. A lot of the hallways have been blocked off by red lyrium growth so they have less area to cover than they would otherwise, but it’s not exactly comforting. Dorian never seems to stop making witty comments. Every time she thinks that he couldn’t fit the “arrogant Tevinter mage” stereotype any more, he says something else that proves her wrong. To his credit, Dorian doesn’t appear to be as obsessed with ruling over everyone as the rest of his country seems to be.

Herah can’t understand why the Tevinter mages are so focused on power. It’s dangerous and horrifying and it doesn’t even make sense. She’d always taken it for granted that it was in the nature of mages to follow and submit (and yes, she is in a leadership position right now, but that was thrust upon her so it doesn’t _count_ ). The idea of a mage actively seeking power is just unnatural.

She’s forced to admit that she and Dorian work well together, at least. As annoying as he is, he’s obviously talented and he seems to be using a type of magic that Herah has never seen. She hopes that he’ll be willing to discuss it with her if and when they ever get back to their own time. 

 

They find Grand Enchanter Fiona first. It looks like the red lyrium is swallowing her, but then Herah realizes that it’s growing inside of her and forcing its way out. She wonders how long Fiona has been there and how she’s been keeping track of time, but she seems certain of the date. 

One year.

It feels simultaneously too short and too long. The castle looks like it’s been falling apart for decades, but when Herah thinks about how much they must have missed-

Josephine was back in Haven when Alexius cast the spell that started this. Herah knows better than almost anyone how intelligent and resourceful Josephine is, but her skills wouldn’t have gotten her very far in this world. She would have been unwilling to kill people in order to survive and the Venatori would have thought she was useless without any talent for magic. Herah thinks about Fiona again and her heart breaks as she hopes that Josephine’s death was quick and painless.

She wonders if her family is still alive.

 

The next group of Venatori seems tougher and more skilled. One of them manages to slash at the exposed part of Dorian’s arm during the split-second after Herah’s barrier falls and before his is active. He cries out in pain and Herah sees him stagger at the edge of her vision. She steps between him and their enemies, trying to buy him enough time to drink a healing potion. 

Seconds later, she hears a loud thud as Dorian slams his staff down on the ground, sending a wall of fire shooting out of it. He looks pale and he’s maneuvering his staff with his other hand but he’ll be all right for now. 

It takes a very long time but they finally manage to kill all of them. “Can I look at your wound?” Herah asks. 

Dorian starts to protest but it’s cut off with a sigh. “All right,” he finally says.

The potion stopped him from losing too much blood but it’s still a nasty-looking cut. She heals him with magic as best as she can and wraps it with a bandage. 

“You’re good at that,” he says softly.

“Thank you.” She feels embarrassed by the praise. “The mercenaries I used to work with were too afraid to let me do any other kind of magic for a few years.”

He scoffs, which turns into a pained groan. She notices that his mustache is somehow still perfectly groomed.

“You’ll need to visit an actual healer if and when we get out of here, but that’ll hold you until then. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“I probably could’ve guessed that.”

She waits for another witty comment but he’s apparently either too exhausted or too worried. They find a relatively clean place on the ground to sit and wait for their mana to recharge. They have a few lyrium potions between them, but neither of them can stomach the idea of drinking the stuff right now.

“Have you ever met your Voice?” she asks, suddenly. “Or, you call them an unum vinctum, don’t you?”

Dorian bristles. “That’s a rather personal question, isn’t it?”

“Sorry, I meant no offense.”

“I should hope not.”

There’s an awkward silence. “Ambassador Montilyet was- _is_ -my Voice. I never told her. I wish I had time to go into the Fade to see if she’s still alive.”

Dorian looks surprised but he doesn’t say anything.

“I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. If we die here, the world is lost. If we survive and put time back the way it was supposed to be, I’ll get another chance.”

“Hmm.”

There’s another awkward silence. “You know, my name means ‘time’ in Qunlat. I always thought it was arbitrary but it seems prescient now-”

“My Voice lives in the Free Marches, by the Waking Sea.” Dorian looks very uncomfortable. He’s staring at the ground, refusing to meet her eyes. “I’ve never met him.”

“I hope you’re able to find him someday.” Herah gives what she hopes is an encouraging smile.

“That would be ill-advised but I appreciate the sentiment.” Dorian stands up, very obviously ready for their conversation to be over. 

She follows him, gripping her staff. “All right, let’s go find our friends.”

 

Sera is furious and terrified. She can’t believe that Herah is alive but she’s willing to follow her anyway because she doesn’t have anything else to believe in right now.

Herah has seen Cassandra get violently angry before but the time in the cell has worn the fight out of her. Her faith and resolve are seemingly all that she has left when everything else is gone. 

Leliana’s faith is long gone and in its place is a harsh cruelty that has enabled her to withstand torture for what must have been a very long time. Herah is tempted to ask her if she knows what happened to Josephine but even if Leliana knows, even if she’s willing to tell her, she’s not sure that she wants to hear it.

 

Alexius is broken already, too weary to be properly surprised to see them again but he’s still strong enough to put up a good fight. Herah tells Leliana not to kill Felix but it’s more of a lament than an actual request, let alone an order. That doesn’t make it any easier to watch.

The battle is difficult but this time there are four of them plus Leliana. It’s not easy—it was never going to be easy—but they all know how this is going to end. She hears Sera and Cassandra fall before she sees their bodies. Leliana is fierce and _cruel_ to the end but she dies praying, and Herah realizes that she’d never lost her faith entirely.

Dorian is busy muttering under his breath and doing something complicated with his hands to create a terrible swirling vortex of magic while Herah is forced to watch all of this, unable to help any of them. She’d expected some kind of loud noise, or maybe a feeling of dizziness or something, but she just blinks and then everything is back to the way it was hours ago. One year ago.

It’s like the feeling after finishing a really good book, when the world is the same as it always was but nothing make sense anymore. Cassandra is glaring at Sera, who is picking her nose. Leliana looks pleased with herself. Herah wants to hug all three of them. 

Alexius is weary and resigned. He seems to remember that they defeated him, or maybe he lost a long time ago. Herah doesn’t really have a chance to think about Alexius’ surrender because there’s an announcement that Queen Anora of Ferelden is here.

_Now?_ Herah thinks, confused. Is it normal for royalty to show up in person immediately after an enemy surrenders? She’d have thought that there would be some sort of representative taking care of things like this. 

Evidently this is the sort of thing that monarchs do in person, because a hush falls over the crowd as a blonde woman wearing a fine dress enters the room. Herah doesn’t know much about Anora, only that she has a reputation for being shrewd and fierce, and that she is popular in her own country and well-respected throughout the rest of Thedas. Anora is also younger and prettier than Herah expected. She is suddenly very aware of how filthy her armor is.

Anora informs the mages that they are no longer allowed in Redcliffe. Herah wants to protest on Fiona’s behalf that it was the Tevinters’ fault, but it doesn’t feel right to interfere and it would take too long to explain and honestly, she would do the same thing in Anora’s position.

But she is in a position to do something about this. They chose her as their leader and she’s going to use her authority to make this right.

“We are honored to welcome the rebel mages to join the Inquisition, as full allies.” Her voice sounds more calm than she feels. There are muffled noises of surprise and Sera is openly gaping at her, but nobody challenges her decision.

* * *

She knows that everything is back the way it was, that nobody outside of herself and Dorian remember anything that happened, but it’s still a relief to see Josephine again. She goes to visit her directly after arriving back at Haven. She’s sitting at her desk, focused on whatever she’s writing. Josephine is as poised as ever and her hair and clothes look perfect but Herah can see the small indications of exhaustion and worry. _You need to relax_ , she thinks. She wonders how Josephine would react if she just got down on her knees in front of her. Herah remembers that Minaeve is still there and tries to think about something else.

“Lady Adaar!” she sets her pen down. “The reports from Redcliffe are… strange… but I hear that you have been successful?”

“We were.” A pause. “You know, you can call me Herah. Please.” 

“I will try to remember that.”

She hadn’t really come here with a plan, other than to see Josephine and reassure herself that Josephine is still real and alive. She’d thought about telling her what happened, beyond was what in the reports, but-

It’s over. It never happened. This is real now.

She takes a deep breath. “So, what happened while we were gone?”

 

It seems like half of Haven is horrified at what Herah’s decision to ally with the mages and the other half is impressed by her audacity. She wonders if this is what leadership feels like.

She asks Josephine about it, toward the end of a particularly grueling day when she’d been criticized by Vivienne, Cullen, the blacksmith, two different Chantry sisters, and one of Leliana’s scouts. “Is the alliance with the mages really that bad of an idea? Should I revoke it?” She was ready to stand behind her decision but she’ll change her mind if Josephine wants her to.

“No. A lot of important people are watching us closely and we can’t be seen backing down now.”

Herah feels disappointed, even though Josephine has just told her what she wanted to hear. “So I made a mistake, but it would be an even bigger mistake to reverse it?”

“Not necessarily. The mages have endured much and they deserve a chance to prove that they’ve earned their freedom.”

“Thank you. That really means a lot.”

Josephine doesn’t seem to understand the significance of the conversation but she smiles graciously.

The idea of mage freedom is a strange one. Herah has learned quickly that humans (and a lot of elves, and not-insignificant number of surface dwarves) have very strong opinions about the Circles. They seem to think that the idea of whether or not a lot of mages are locked up together is an important issue with wide-ranging implications. 

As much as Herah disagrees with her, Vivienne is rightfully concerned about the dangers of having so many mages together in a place where there are also a lot of demons. She’d been wanting to visit the Forbidden Oasis to learn about the shards, but closing the Breach as soon as possible will have to take priority and she can’t risk going anywhere else until it’s done. At least she’ll be able to try out new potion recipes and spend time with Josephine while she’s stuck in Haven.

In between making sure that everyone has good equipment and enough potions to take on whatever might come through while they’re trying to close the Breach, Herah stops by Leliana’s tent to talk with her. This time, she protests when Herah asks her to spare the life of the agent who betrayed her but she agrees to let him live.

 

She’d expected Dorian to be pleased with her decision to ally with the mages but he starts lecturing her about how the South might follow the same path as Tevinter if the mages here are given more freedom. 

Herah had once assumed that humans were more comfortable with mages than the Qunari were. She’s since realized that mages are feared everywhere and that the humans in the South are just too weak to admit that they’d be more comfortable with their own mages chained up and unable to make decisions for themselves. She wonders if mages can ever be normal people, equal to everyone else. Why do they either have to be the oppressed or the oppressors? 

“So, you’re Tal-Vashoth, or some such?” She’d been wondering when Dorian was going to address it.

“Yes. Or I’m Vashoth, technically.”

“Our people don’t historically have the best relationship but I have no issues with you, personally.” 

His words hurt, even though she knows that’s not his intention. She’d thought it was a given that they were on the same side after they traveled through time together. “The Qunari aren’t my people and they never have been. If I wasn’t the only person who could close the rifts, they’d say that I was too dangerous to be allowed to live.”

“I’m happy to see you here, then, although maybe not under these exact circumstances.” She can tell that he’s trying to be diplomatic but the air is still thick with tension.

“Is the Imperium even ‘your people’? It seems like you left them and you’ve made an enemy of at least one of them.”

“It’s a very complicated situation. Suffice it to say, I love my homeland dearly but there are many changes that need to be made and none of that can happen if the world is destroyed here. The magisters saw the Breach as a problem for the Southerners to deal with, but it’s going to spread everywhere unless we do something about it.”

“I understand complicated situations, I think.”

He doesn’t ask about Josephine. She doesn’t bring up his Voice again.

 

Bull is probably also angry with her but she’s still too afraid to go near him, let alone talk with him. Herah is aware that the Inquisition is paying the Chargers a lot of money to sit around and do nothing, but Josephine said that she would appear weak if she tried to reverse her decisions now. She tries to imagine what she would say if someone challenged her. Something about how Bull is there to provide intelligence from the Ben-Hassrath, and they don’t want to waste his considerable combat experience and training on minor skirmishes in the Hinterlands when there will undoubtedly be more serious battles up ahead. It sounds stupid even in her head.

 

Solas is still happy with her, at least. They meditate together and talk about demons and the plan for closing the Breach. He still hasn’t told her why he doesn’t wear shoes but it seems too personal of a question to just ask him.

 

Once they have the mages and enough lyrium, the plans fall into place quickly. It’s early in the morning when Herah returns to the place where it all started. Solas shouts instructions to the mages who are lined up behind Herah. For an apostate elf who still dresses like he lives in a cave, he seems oddly comfortable giving orders to a large group of people who are mostly humans. She gets the feeling that he must have done something like this before but he probably doesn’t feel comfortable talking about it, like the shoe thing.

It starts the same as closing any of the rifts. Herah shoves her arm up in the air, feeling foolish with such a large audience, and opens herself to the current flowing through her. She can feel the mages amplifying her power. It quickly becomes intense, and then it’s too much, but she forces herself to keep her arm up even though she feels like her body is trying to turn itself inside out. She clenches her right hand in a tight fist and she realizes that her eyes are squeezed shut but it doesn’t matter because she can feel everything that’s happening. 

It’s going to work this time. She knows it somehow, can feel it. She’s just a conduit for the power—after everything she’s still a tool to be aimed in the right direction—but she can feel it weakening. It’s probably been less than a minute but she feels like she’s been doing this for hours. She dares to open her eyes and squint up at it just as there’s another bright flash. The air trembles, and it is closed.

Herah sinks down to her knees, barely aware of the rocks on the ground. Her skin is clammy with sweat. There’s excited cheering coming from somewhere but it sounds like it’s far away. She tries to massage the feeling back into her left hand. She’s raw inside- or, that’s not quite right but it’s the best way she can describe it.

“Are you all right?” Solas must have walked up without her noticing. 

“Yes, thank you.” It’s mostly true. Her left arm still feels wrong but she’s fine otherwise. She winces as she stands up. “We actually did it!”

“We did. _You_ did.” 

 

There’s some kind of party afterward. Herah plans to tell people that she’s too tired and/or sore as her excuse for not joining in, but she finds herself in a long discussion with Cassandra about what the future of the Inquisition will be. They have technically accomplished their goal, but there are still a lot of things that need to be done. 

Josephine finds her afterward. They end up sitting next to each other on a bench outside of the Chantry. It’s not exactly private but they aren’t likely to be overheard. “How are you?” she asks. Herah can tell from the concerned look on her face that she isn’t just being polite.

“Exhausted. Relieved. Probably a lot of other things that my mind is too scrambled to think about right now.”

“You have been very strong and brave, but you have also never passed up a chance to be kind. I couldn’t imagine doing any of this without you, Herah.” There’s a tension in Josephine’s voice, like she’s trying to say something else.

Herah is hyperaware of the fact that Josephine’s thigh is almost touching hers. She hasn’t forgotten the dream that she saw after she first met Josephine.

She feels large and dirty next to her. Even if Josephine finds her attractive, there’s no way that being a mage’s Voice would fit into her life.

She needs to tell her. It’s too late to tell her. She’s going to-

Herah opens her mouth to speak but she’s cut off by the sound of the warning bell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you aren't familiar with the original Voiceverse, Dorian's Voice is a male Trevelyan warrior. If you are familiar with it, the universe that this story takes place in is mostly the same except that Taran got sick right before the Conclave so he couldn't go as his brother's squire, and a random Qunari mercenary ended up with the Anchor instead of him. (Taran has fully recovered and is still somewhere in Ostwick.)


	6. Chapter 6

What follows is a chaos of panic and blood and red lyrium, punctuated by a series of moments.

There is a stranger at the gates who is almost more hat than person; a would-be god who leaves her with more questions than she had before; a _dragon_. There is a moment of confusion when Herah notices that her magic is stronger than it’s ever been, before she remembers that proximity to her Voice makes her more powerful. Later, she realizes that her magic is back to normal and desperately hopes that this means Josephine is safely far away.

There is a split-second decision to run into the house where she’s been staying and rescue the bag with Josephine’s doll, leaving her books behind. Soon afterward, she finds herself talking with Cullen in the Chantry.

“He’s only here for me.” 

Cullen nods, understanding what she’s not saying.

“Is Josephine still alive?”

“Yes, I just saw her toward the back of the Chantry. She’s been doing an admirable job of keeping people from panicking. Did you need to speak to her?”

“No, just-” another decision, this one more infinitely more difficult- “I’ll distract him for as long as I can. Help the people escape and please tell Josephine that I’m sorry.”

“But why Josephine?” She can almost see the moment he figures it out. “She can’t possibly be your-” he trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence out loud. Whatever he sees on Herah’s own face must confirm his suspicions. “Go. Maker be with you.”

 

Herah casts a barrier around herself as she falls. The impact that should have killed her just leaves her with bruises and she wonders if maybe the Maker really is with her, until she realizes that the cold is going to kill her instead and she’s only traded a quick death for a slow one.

* * *

When Herah wakes, she’s too sore to remember that she shouldn’t be alive at all. She groans, trying to sit up.

“How are you feeling?” Josephine is sitting on the ground next to her. She sounds worried.

“I’m fine.” It’s mostly true. “What happened? The Elder One-”

“He’s gone. You collapsed in the snow and they carried you back here. One of the mages did something to warm you up but he said that you’ll be weak for a while.”

Josephine is so close that Herah could embrace her but she’s worried that it would make Josephine uncomfortable. She folds her arms tightly.

“…Carried me?” She has an absurd mental image of Cullen and Cassandra lifting her onto a horse, but it would have been dangerous to try to lead one into a deep blizzard.

“The Iron Bull did. He said that you’re lighter than you look.” 

Herah tries not to let Josephine see her flinching. 

They seem to be somewhere in the mountains, outside of Haven. There are makeshift tents and people huddling in small groups around fires. Everyone looks exhausted and scared but it’s reassuring to see that there are too many people to count. Cullen, Leliana, and Cassandra seem to be in the middle of a quickly-escalating argument.

Cullen notices that Herah is sitting up and watching them. “Josephine,” he calls out, “the Herald is obviously alive, so if you could come talk some sense into Leliana-”

“Excuse me?!” Leliana looks like she’s seriously considering stabbing him.

“Forgive me,” Josephine says to Herah.

“I understand.” 

“If you’re sure you’re all right?”

Herah nods. She manages a smile. “Good luck dealing with them.”

Josephine walks over to join them and is almost immediately drawn into the argument. Herah can’t hear what she’s saying but she watches, amused, as Josephine gestures dramatically. She flexes her toes inside of her boots and is pleased to note that she can feel all of them. 

She wishes that she’d brought something to read.

“The ambassador had been waiting by your side for hours. She was very worried about you.” Herah starts. She hadn’t realized that Mother Giselle was there.

“She didn’t have to do that.” It’s wonderful to think about the implications but Josephine has important work to do and Herah doesn’t need her as much as the Inquisition does right now. 

Mother Giselle tries to draw her into a conversation and she does her best to respond politely but she really doesn’t have the energy to get involved in a complicated discussion about faith, let alone try to justify her own lack of faith. 

Almost out of nowhere, everyone starts singing. Herah seems to be the only one who doesn’t know the words. Had she missed an important message or something? She’s grateful for the interruption when Solas gets her attention.

“Did you know that they were going to sing?” she asks him.

“It was a surprise to me as well.” 

“It’s a beautiful song but I wish someone had given me the words ahead of time so I could have had a chance to learn them.”

Solas frowns. He looks lost in thought as he activates the veilfire and explains to her that the strange orb that Corypheus had been carrying was actually elven.

“Are you upset because he stole it? Or- the humans are going to blame the elves if they find out about this, aren’t they? That could be very bad.” The Chantry has somehow managed to hold the elves responsible for the Exalted March on the Dales. They would almost definitely find a way to blame them for the Conclave explosion if there was even the slightest justification.

Solas nods. “I was hoping that we might be able to recover the orb, if possible.”

“Of course. It needs to be returned to its rightful owners.”

He looks relieved.

 

Solas knows of a castle that he has seen while he was dreamwalking. He explains that he hadn’t mentioned it before because the Inquisition was a relatively small organization working toward what would hopefully be a short-term goal, but now they will need to expand if they are to have any hope of defeating Corypheus, and they’ll need a new base of operations for that.

Herah and Solas scout ahead along with several of Leliana’s people while the rest of the Inquisition follows behind them. It’s a long and tiring journey. She’s used to traveling with Solas and she appreciates his company, but she never really got a chance to recover from almost freezing to death and now she’s trying to adjust to the increasingly high altitudes. The only clothes that she has left are still stained with Red Templar blood. They take turns telling each other stories as they walk, and they mostly live on meat that they manage to hunt along the way.

As far as she knows, Josephine doesn’t have any experience with traveling like this. She worries about how Josephine is faring.

 

Herah is going to lead the Inquisition. This is decided, without her input, as soon as everyone arrives at Skyhold. (It turns out that Josephine is in excellent spirits and has apparently spent the entire trip making plans for everything they’ll need to do to get the castle set up and start building the Inquisition.)

Cassandra explains that Herah is the obvious choice because of the mark on her hand, but also because of everything she’s been doing to stabilize the Hinterlands and close the Breach. She shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d been leading everyone so far, but she’d always assumed that it would be temporary. Then again, nobody was expecting Corypheus. 

Herah is called up in front of everyone and handed a sword that seems to be too large, even for her. It must be ceremonial because she knows almost nothing about swords but even she can tell that the balance is off. Herah thrusts the sword above her head and holds it aloft so that everyone can see it. Her grip is probably wrong but she hopes that no one will care as long as she looks suitably authoritative.

There is a tense silence while everyone stares at her. She realizes that she’s supposed to say something. Would it reassure people if she made a statement about leading an organization of faith in service to Andraste, or would that exacerbate the claims of heresy? She’s spent enough time listening to Karaas that she could probably come up with something that sounds devout, but it feels dishonest. Herah considers saying something about the significance of leading them as a Vashoth, or maybe as a mage, but it seems like that would invite even more controversy.

She picks out Josephine’s face in the crowd. She’s watching her expectantly. Herah tries to think about what Josephine would want her to say.

“We will fight to restore order and make the world safe for everyone!” She shouts it as loud as she can. The crowd cheers in response but Herah barely notices because she can’t see anything beyond Josephine smiling at her.

 

Skyhold isn’t nearly as cold as it seems like it should be, which is good because the castle has several large holes in it. It’s in remarkably good condition for its age but it still needs a lot of work before anyone can actually live there. Herah has no idea where to even start so she just tries to be as helpful as possible. Fortunately, there seem to be several people who are skilled at overseeing this kind of thing.

There’s a multi-story building that is separated from the main part of the castle and somebody decides that it will be a tavern, because this is evidently something that every quasi-religious organization needs. Herah doesn’t argue. She does try to argue against constructing a dungeon in the lower levels but she is overruled. 

There is a large area of the main building that is described to Herah as “your quarters.” She assumes that several people, including herself, will be sleeping there. It takes a long time and some awkward questions before she finally realizes that the entire space is meant to be for her own use, and at this point she’s too embarrassed to try to argue about it.

The space that Josephine claims for her office is large, comfortable, and conveniently located, but Herah can’t help but notice that the only windows are positioned to let light fall on her desk, not to look out of. She thinks about Josephine’s wistful expression as she reminisced about looking out at the bay from her office in Antiva City. This is actually the longest time that she and Josephine have been in the same area but they don’t really have much time to talk to each other, because Josephine is busy with organizing and planning everything in between making connections with various important people. She’s clearly in her element here and it’s undeniably attractive to see how good she is at her job. 

Solas begins to set up his belongings in a circular room on the ground floor. “This is nice,” Herah tells him. “It feels… airy? I think that’s the right word for it.”

He looks thoughtful. “I like being in this space, but the walls are plain. It almost feels as though we’re at the bottom of a well.”

“Now that you’ve said that, I can’t not see it. Maybe you could hang up some tapestries? Or get more furniture? I’m sure we could find something for you.”

“I was thinking about painting the walls. I haven’t painted in a long time and I have been wanting to get back to it.”

“That’s a really good idea! I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

 

The first time that Josephine gently criticizes Herah for working on rebuilding the castle, she dismisses it. It’s better than sitting around and thinking about all the people who died at Haven, and nobody is really going to think less of her for helping, are they?

The second time, Josephine is more insistent. “The leader of the Inquisition can’t be seen doing manual labor!”

“Why not? Wouldn’t it be worse if people found out that I wasn’t doing anything to help?”

“No, of course not! They understand that your other responsibilities are more important.” 

Herah still doesn’t understand. She can’t exactly run the Inquisition while there are still a lot of people sleeping in tents outside.

“Besides, you are distracting people!”

“What do you mean?” Humans still tend to stare at her when they meet her for the first time, but that’s hardly anything new.

“You keep- walking around, carrying heavy objects back and forth! It’s very distracting and people have important work that they need to do!” 

“I- oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“No, please don’t apologize. Surely there’s something less _physical_ that you can do? This would be an optimal time to expand the reach of the Inquisition.”

“Well, there’s somewhere I’ve been wanting to visit…”

* * *

“Isn’t _Forbidden Oasis_ an oxymoron?”

“It is, isn’t it? That’s a good point!” Harding peers up at Herah from behind her hand, trying to shield her eyes from the sun. She’s already brought along a large chest containing all the shards that Herah has found so far.

“But I guess the word forbidden doesn’t necessarily mean that something is bad, does it? Maybe it’s forbidden because it’s private property?”

“There’s an old mine here but it’s been abandoned for a long time. I’ve also heard stories about a temple that’s supposed to be even older, but there are too many Venatori in the way.”

Of course there are Venatori here. “Thanks for the warning.” She’s about to dismiss Harding when she has an idea. “Can you send your ravens to Skyhold from here?”

“Sure! What’s your message?”

“Actually,” Herah quickly writes a note on the back of the requisition order that she was just handed, “I saw this in the market while I was in Val Royeaux. Can you ask… whoever it is who does things like this… to order it and have it delivered to my, uh, quarters by the time I get back? Whatever it costs for everything, just subtract the amount from my personal funds. Is that okay?” Herah winces at how awkward she sounds. She’s sure that she said something wrong, or that she’s overstepping her authority.

Harding glances at the paper. “No problem! Was there anything else?”

“No, I think we should probably start exploring the area while there’s still light out. Thank you for your help.”

She doesn’t think that she will ever get used to the idea of people doing what she tells them to do.

 

Even with the Venatori, and the hyenas, and an actual _giant_ , the Forbidden Oasis has to be the most interesting place that Herah has ever seen. The top layer is a seemingly endless desert, but this cuts away to reveal a complicated network of caves and ledges. It takes a lot of planning, and even more climbing, to reach all of the shards here. The oasis itself is at the lowest level. There is a beautiful pool with clear water and Herah feels peaceful just standing there, feeling the soft breeze and watching the tuskets play. 

When they find the temple, she can feel the magic coursing through it when she stands outside the door. It’s similar to the way a magic staff feels, only much stronger. There’s an inscription on the wall in a script that Herah has never seen before, followed by writing in Trade. The part that she can understand has three short sentences: _Arrogance became our end. Come not to a prideful place. Now let humility grant favor._

“Does anybody know what language that is?”

Cassandra and Blackwall look as confused as Herah does but Solas says “It is Elven. _Emma solas him var din’an. Tel garas solasan. Melana en athim las enaste._ The meaning is the same.”

“That’s such a beautiful language!” It’s only the second time that Herah has heard it. “Did I hear you say your name?”

“ _Solas_ is an Elven word meaning pride. I believe the temple is named Solasan, which roughly translates to ‘a prideful place’.”

“Your parents named you Pride? Aww, you must have been their pride and joy.” She can almost picture an elven couple cooing over a tiny, bald baby. 

There are six slots in the door. They are each exactly large enough to fit one of the shards, inserted lengthwise. She slides them in and the door opens, similar to the door in the future version of Redcliffe. She wonders if this is something else that the Tevinters took from the elves.

 _Now let humility grant favor._ Is it hubris to think that she can collect all of the shards in Thedas, or is she demonstrating humility by running around and climbing up mountains out of respect for the temple instead of just trying to force the door open with an explosion?

Herah finds a glyph and three more doors inside. She chooses the cold door first. It seems appropriate because cold was the first type of magic that she learned, and also because there’s a blisteringly hot desert outside and Taashath always said that balance was important in magic. There are demons but they seem more like a reflex than an actual defense, as if the temple had flailed its proverbial arms and accidentally hit her after she’d startled it awake. 

Solas thinks that the magic in the sarcophagus is drawn to Herah because of her mark, but she wonders if it somehow knows that she has been the one searching with the oculara and painstakingly tracking down shards. She gradually feeds the shards into the doors and is rewarded, until she's used the last of them. As she’s leaving the temple, she turns around and bows toward the entrance. She isn’t sure that she believes in whatever ritual was once part of this place but it is old and powerful and she feels obligated to show respect. _Now let humility grant favor._ “Thank you,” she says. “I will come back with more shards for you.”

Later, she thinks about the inscription on the front of the temple and how Solas could read it easily. There’s something that seems wrong but she can’t quite articulate it.

 

They’ve made a lot of progress on Skyhold while she was gone. Josephine explains to Herah that as Inquisitor, she has the authority to decide how the castle will be decorated. “Please write a list for me and I’ll see to it that everything is procured,” she says, as if Herah would have any idea of where to start on a list like that.

“If it’s not too much trouble, could I get a longer bed? The one I’ve got now is too short and-”

“Of course! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that sooner.” She looks genuinely embarrassed. “Was your bed in Haven really too small during the entire time we were there?"

“Well, I was gone most of the time anyway and I didn’t want to be rude, but it sounds like we have more money now…” 

“My lady, you _must_ speak up about these things! How can you lead the Inquisition if you aren’t even sleeping comfortably?” She knows Josephine well enough by now to know that the outrage in her voice isn’t entirely serious. “I will also need to know your wishes for the rest of the castle.”

“Isn’t there anyone else who could do this? Someone who knows something about art or design or furniture or… something?”

Josephine raises an eyebrow at her. “Are you trying to tell me that you don’t know anything about furniture?”

“It’s just that I’ve never had to buy furniture before. I left my parents’ home when I was a teenager and I spent the rest of my life traveling around with mercenaries.”

“Fortunately for you, most of the furniture has already been provided. The only thing left is to decide on the theme for the banners and the style of your throne, and the like. I’ve compiled some options for you if that would help,” and she shows Herah a document with several lists. Herah realizes almost immediately that nobody else has made a decision about this because they would make too many people angry, no matter what they chose. As Inquisitor, she apparently has both the responsibility and privilege of making people angry herself.

It’s very strange to think about the fact that she’s going to be sitting on a throne, as if she is now royalty in addition to being a religious figurehead. This decision is easy, at least: she chooses a low-backed Chasind-style seat because she can lean back comfortably without her horns getting in the way.

The decision about the decorations for the main hall are more difficult. Qunari-inspired decor is out, immediately. She doesn’t want to choose anything Orlesian because the Fereldens would be angry. Dalish or Tevinter styles would be too controversial. Andrastian Chantry decorations would either endear people to her or be inflammatory, and she isn’t sure which. She eventually decides to go with Free Marcher styles for everything, and justifies her decision by saying that she wants to reflect the place where she grew up. The Orlesian nobles don’t even both to lower their voices when they complain but nobody is actually offended by her choice, so she considers it a success. As a bonus, Varric is delighted and Josephine says that Leliana insists that Vivienne is secretly nostalgic but won’t admit it.

 

Herah still has the doll. She unpacks it along with her other belongings in her new, absurdly-large room. It looks like a tiny human with a painted face and clothes that have probably been out of style for years and long, black hair, like both she and Josephine have. As careful as she’s been, it’s hard to believe she’s kept it intact for so long. 

 

She has requested to meet with Josephine in the early evening. She can usually just drop by and talk to people whenever she has a chance, but she’s learned that she has to schedule time with Josephine in advance if she doesn’t want to be interrupted partway through by a meeting with some visiting dignitary. 

She arrives at Josephine’s office on time, awkwardly pushing the door open with her shoulder because her hands are hidden behind her back. She could just be imagining it, but Herah could swear that the warm smile Josephine is giving her is more genuine than the ones she gives to everyone else.

“It’s such a pleasure to see you! Please, sit down.” She gestures toward the chairs in front of the fireplace. Now that her office is finished, Herah notices that she’s managed to make it feel both impressive and comforting.

“First, I wanted to give you something.” She holds the doll out toward Josephine before she can stop herself. “It’s a- decoration. For your new office. Not that I expect you to keep it here, of course, it’s more of a gift to celebrate-”

“Oh, this is darling!” Josephine holds the doll gently, reverently, as she admires it. “Did my sister put you up to this?”

“What?” Of all the possible responses that Josephine could have had, Herah hadn’t been expecting anything like that.

“Never mind.” She shakes her head. “It was so kind of you to think of me! I used to have dolls like this when I was a girl, but I haven’t seen them in shops for… it must have been ten years. I can’t even imagine where you found this.” She sets the doll up on the mantle above the fireplace. It looks like it’s watching over them.

Herah gives what she hopes is an expression of aloof mysteriousness, but this is ruined almost immediately when she remembers her other gift and breaks out in a grin. “I have something else for you, but this is more grown up.” She pulls out her other hand, revealing the most expensive bottle of Antivan wine that she could find.

“Oh! _Oh_ , is that- I hadn’t realized you had such refined taste in- I don’t know why you’ve decided to spoil me tonight, but I-” she pauses for breath, looking flustered. “My grandmother used to say that one should save the good wine for special occasions, but one should always drink the _really_ good wine as soon as possible because life is too short. Would you like to share this with me?”

“I would love to.” Did she over-emphasize the word _love_? She probably did, but Josephine doesn’t seem to have noticed. She closes the door to her office and busies herself looking for glasses. 

“Most of the glassware I ordered hasn't arrived yet. I do have white wine glasses, but I regret that they won’t allow us to fully appreciate it.”

“I’m sure the wine will still be excellent.”

“Of course it will!” She almost sounds offended. 

Josephine pours the wine with a precision that Herah has only ever seen highly skilled alchemists use. Come to think of it, she's never seen Josephine pour drinks before. Does she always take it so seriously, or is it just because this wine is particularly expensive?

She watches Josephine carefully, making sure to copy her movements in case there's a right and wrong way to drink it. She takes a small sip and lets it sit on her tongue before swallowing. Herah wonders if Josephine notices that she’s staring at her mouth. The wine is _good_ , but she doesn’t think it’s all that much better than cheap wine. Maybe this is something that only nobles understand, like how Josephine can tell different types of forks apart.

Herah sets her glass on the table as they sit down. With Josephine so close, she’s very aware of all the complicated layers in her clothing. The stiff-looking fabric shifts as Josephine leans toward her.

Josephine is so fucking _beautiful_. Of course she’s kind and loyal and incredibly talented at so many different things, not to mention how hard she works and all the other non-shallow qualities that Herah admires about her, but she can’t look at her and not think about how beautiful she is. Herah isn’t especially ugly but she’s never considered herself attractive before. If the other half of her soul is so beautiful, what does that say about her?

She turns toward Josephine. Their knees are touching. “I was wondering, have you had the opportunity to see magic up close?”

“Now that you mention it, I believe I’ve only seen it in person a handful of times, mostly while someone was being healed. It’s strange to think that we have so many mages working for the Inquisition but they don’t seem to do magic in public very often.” She stares off somewhere in the distance. “I still remember a party years ago where they hired mages to perform. It was very exciting! I wonder if they’ll still do that, now that the Circles are gone?”

“I could show you some magic. If you’re interested.” Herah takes a drink, an excuse to not look at Josephine’s face.

“That would be wonderful! I hope it’s not too much trouble?” Herah glances up in time to see that her expression is eager. 

She holds out her hand--palm up, fingers spread out--and curves her fingers upward like she’s holding an invisible bowl. She doesn’t even have to think about it to start electricity sparking between her fingertips and across her palm. It’s not that this would be difficult in other circumstances, but magic comes easier than breathing when Josephine is so close. She feels like she has perfect control over it too, like she could throw lightning around the entire room and not hit anything that she didn’t intend to, but she doesn’t want to risk it. It occurs to Herah that they should have done this outdoors, or somewhere she could do large, flashy magic without risking damage to Josephine’s beautiful new office. 

Herah glances up at Josephine’s face and sees that she’s watching intently with her eyes wide. She makes the electricity go faster and adds more sparks until they’re crackling all over the inside of her hand.

“That’s amazing!” 

“Do you want to feel it? It won’t hurt you.”

“All right.” She looks surprised, but not afraid.

Herah reaches out her other hand for one of Josephine’s and she extends it without hesitation. Her hand feels tiny and delicate. Herah had never noticed before that Josephine has a freckle on one of her knuckles, and she has a sudden impulse to bend down and kiss it. She turns the hand over instead, brushing her thumb across Josephine's palm. Josephine gasps, openmouthed. 

She cradles Josephine’s hand in hers, palm up, and brings the lightning closer. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

There’s a humming, staticky noise as the lightning jumps between them. Several strands connect their hands until it almost looks like the string games that Herah used to play with her brother, except that the lightning is constantly moving.

She still can’t believe how easy this is with Josephine here. The bolts of lightning themselves are very weak but precise control like this should take considerably more effort. Herah feels like she’s more powerful now than she’s ever been and she would expect it to be a heady, intoxicating sensation, but her mind is perfectly clear and focused. There is nothing else right now outside of herself and Josephine, and the electricity connecting them.

“Oh, I can feel it buzzing… it’s like it’s tickling me!” Josephine is breathing hard but her hand is steady.

Herah makes the sparks dance across Josephine’s palm and tease the spaces between her fingers. 

“Ah-” It almost sounds like a soft moan.

This feels... too intense. Too obvious. Herah decides that she should quit while she’s ahead. She flexes her hand and the electricity is gone, leaving a faint smell of ozone behind. Josephine’s hand is still in hers. She looks dazed.

“Are you all right?” Her own voice sounds breathy.

“Oh-” She pulls her hand back to her lap, shifts her thighs, opens and closes her mouth a few times.

Herah drinks some of the wine, not trusting herself to speak right now.

“Excuse me, where are my manners? Yes, that was wonderful! I’ve never seen anything like it. Thank you so much!” She smiles, sits up straight, and the poised ambassador is back. “I was going to order dinner. Are you hungry?”

“I- yes, that sounds like an excellent idea.” It’s still hard to believe that there are people who cook for her now, let alone people who bring food to her instead of complaining that she’s too lazy to get it herself.

They talk about Inquisition business while they eat. The food is probably excellent but she’s so distracted that she can hardly taste it. 

 

Much later, when Herah finally goes back to her quarters, she can still feel her skin tingling.


	7. Chapter 7

_Shokrakar,_

_If you’re still looking for work, there are a lot of demons around that have come from the sky and we need someone to kill them. Would you be interested?_

_As for me, I don’t have an actual salary but the Inquisition pays for my room and board and I get a cut from most of the jobs that I do, not to mention that I’m allowed to use or sell anything that I find in the field. I’ve managed to accumulate more money than I know what to do with. You can assure Taarlok that I will try to save some and I promise not to spend it all on books._

_Adaar_

 

“I’ve a gift for you.” The servant at her door looks nervous, but also like he’s trying to be polite. He’s holding a small jar in his hand. 

Has she seen him before? He’s human, brown hair, probably in his early twenties, and he looks like he’s currently in fair health but he’s spent more of his life hungry than not. At least a third of the Inquisition would fit that description.

“Uh, thank you.” She takes the jar from him. “I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“Derrick, your worship.”

“Thank you, Derrick.” The jar is plain-looking. There’s a thick, yellowish substance inside. “Where did this come from?”

“He said that you would know, your worship.” With that, Derrick bows and retreats back down the stairs.

Herah screws open the top of the jar. She sniffs the contents and pokes it with her finger. It’s true that only one person could’ve sent this but she has no idea why and the thought of it worries her.

 

Herah finds Adan in the garden. “Can you do me a favor?” she asks him.

“I’m not the apothecary anymore, Maker be praised.”

“I know, but I trust you, and this is more of a personal assignment than official Inquisition business. I’m happy to pay you for it.”

“A ‘personal assignment’, hmm? If you need a salve for crotch-rot, you could have just asked.”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” She shows him the jar. “I was just hoping that you could analyze what was in this, maybe test it to make sure that it’s not poisonous. Name your price and I’ll pay it.”

He takes the jar from her with a snort. “You did save my life, I suppose I owe you a favor. Come back tomorrow and I’ll tell what I’ve found out.”

“Thank you so much, this is very kind of you.”

He turns away from her, the conversation apparently over. 

 

Herah is surprised and excited to learn that the War Council has offered to use Inquisition funds to pay for her to receive specialized training. There are three trainers available, each specializing in a different discipline of magic, and she can choose one of the three to learn. Herah asks why she can’t just learn all three specializations but apparently the War Council doesn’t consider this to be an efficient use of time or money.

After meeting with all three trainers, the choice is obvious: she’s going to study Rift Magic. She knows that the other specializations are powerful and would probably be fascinating to study, but she can’t pass up the opportunity to learn a relatively new school of magic that is connected with the rifts as much as she is. Her new teacher is also a very unique person. 

“I am Your Trainer,” she says seriously.

“I’m Herah. Even though you probably already know that. What should I call you?”

“I am Your Trainer,” she says again, more insistent.

“Do I address you as Trainer? Or My Trainer, or…”

“I am _Your Trainer_.” She says it slowly, as if she’s trying to be patient about Herah’s stupidity.

“Uh, all right. It’s an honor to learn from you, Your Trainer.”

It’s almost Qunari, the idea of naming oneself based on one’s role. Then again, Herah used to be Herald and now she is Inquisitor, and Josephine is Ambassador. Maybe the practice is more widespread than she’d realized.

Before she can start her practical training, Herah is expected to read about the rifts and how to use magic to bend the Veil to her advantage. Solas is happy to let her borrow one of his books and she still has one that she found on one of the Venatori from the Forbidden Oasis, but it looks like she’s going to have to look for more on her own.

She decides to check the library first. It was still under construction during the last time she was at Skyhold but it should be ready by now, and it’s nice to have an excuse to visit it. 

As Herah is walking through the halls, she notices that something about the castle seems different than it did yesterday but she can’t quite figure it out.

The library is like something from her fantasies, with floor-to-ceiling books about a dizzying range of topics. She’s trying to figure out where to start when she notices that a woman is watching her. She has the same brand on her forehead as the man in Redcliffe.

The woman introduces herself as Helisma and explains that she has replaced Minaeve.

“Is it all right if I ask you a rude question?”

“I won’t be offended,” Helisma says dryly.

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“You may ask, and I will answer to the best of my abilities so long as it doesn’t cause undue hardship.”

That seems reasonable. “You have a Voice, don’t you? Or you used to, when you were a mage?”

“Yes. I used to dream of him but I do not dream anymore.” She says this in a matter-of-fact tone, as if she’s talking about something mundane.

“Did you ever get a chance to meet him?”

“No. The Chantry says that this is dangerous.”

“Are you religious, then? Are people like you very devout?” Religious devotion seems to be a very emotional experience, from what Herah can see.

“I try to follow the teachings of the Chantry to the best of my ability, although I do not derive the same satisfaction from worship as I used to.”

“Do you think that the Maker chose me specifically?”

“I don’t know. It seems unlikely, but anything could be possible.” Her bluntness is refreshing. So many people are either eager to renounce Herah as a heretic or to pin all of their hope and faith on her.

“I have one more question, but it’s even ruder.” Helisma doesn’t react, so she continues. “If it were possible to reverse your Tranquility, would you do it?” 

Helisma takes a long time to respond. “It would depend on whether it could be done safely and if I would be a danger to anyone afterward. I would have to see research before I made my decision.” 

“That’s a fair answer.” She feels like she should say something kind, but how do you compliment someone who isn’t capable of feeling happy? “I’m very grateful for your service to the Inquisition. The work you do is valuable.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor.” If she squints, it almost looks like Helisma is satisfied with the praise.

Fiona is also there, looking much older than she did a month ago. This is the first opportunity that Herah has had to talk with Fiona at length, but she doesn’t seem very interested in talking. Herah tries to ask about her Voice but Fiona only says that her Voice died a long time ago.

She almost doesn’t see Dorian because he’s hiding in an alcove.

“Isn’t this amazing?” Herah asks him. “I’ve never seen so many books in one place before. I wonder if they’ll let me take a big stack of them back to my room?”

Dorian scoffs. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up. The shelves are largely filled with Chantry propaganda, and they seem to have been organized by someone who was both blind and very drunk.”

Herah can’t bring herself to feel disappointed when she’s surrounded by books that she’s never read. “It’s still a remarkable collection though, isn’t it? There has to be something good here.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be so easily impressed. Where were you even educated?”

“I… wasn’t.” She can feel her face grow hot.

“What do you mean?” He sounds more curious, less mocking, but it still hurts.

“I’ve never had any formal education. My mother taught me how to read and write and do sums, and I had a mentor who taught me magic, and then the mercenaries I worked with taught me staff fighting and how to order drinks and ask for the privy in six different languages. Everything else I know came from books.”

“Really? I honestly hadn’t meant that as a serious question, it’s just an expression. You’re more intelligent and well-read than most of the Southern barbarians; I didn’t realize-”

“Where would I have even gone to school?” She can hear that her voice is raised but she doesn’t care. “The University of Orlais barely lets elves in.”

“You _are_ aware that I was trying to compliment you just now?”

She’s tempted to storm off until she remembers the reason why she came here in the first place. “You haven’t seen any Venatori tomes here, have you?”

“As if they’d allow anything like that.” He looks incredulous that Herah would even suggest it.

“What about books about the Elven language?”

“I’ll let you know if I come across anything.”

 

Leliana informs Herah that the mysterious figure known as “the Arcanist” has arrived. She had agreed to recruit this person but she knows almost nothing about them, other than the fact that they’d spent years traveling between the Circles before the Nevarran Accord ended. Herah has a mental image of a very old and serious human man with almost no real-world skills because he’d lived in the Circles since he was a child. 

She plans to greet the Arcanist briefly before dinner, to welcome them to the Inquisition and find out what they’ll need for their work. She enters the Undercroft but on first glance she doesn’t see anyone other than Harritt.

“Hello there!”

She looks down to see that the speaker is a young dwarven woman- almost exactly the opposite of what she’d expected.

“Are you the Arcanist?”

“I sure am! There isn’t anybody else who does what I do, so I had to come up with a new title for myself. My name is Dagna, by the way. Does your hand really glow? Can I look at it?”

“All right.” She take off her glove and extends her hand out to Dagna. “I’m Herah.”

“Yeah, everybody knows who you are.” She starts to examine the Anchor. Her tiny hands are calloused and Herah can see at least one burn scar, but it looks like she makes an effort to keep her hands moisturized and her fingernails clean and neatly trimmed. “Where did you learn magic? I heard that you weren’t in any of the Circles, but you weren’t part of the Qun, either.”

“I had a mentor when I was younger. He used to be Qunari but he left.”

“Oh, I’ve never met a Qun-trained mage before! Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

 

Before Herah realizes it, they’ve missed dinner and Harritt is kicking them out of the Undercroft so that he can clean up. They continue their conversation over dinner in the tavern. She and Dagna have already talked about magic, lyrium, demons, different theories about the Void, and they somehow ended up in an intense discussion about the Orlesian Civil War. Herah has almost as many questions for Dagna as she does for Herah and she’s already agreed to help Dagna with the research for one of her projects.

She almost feels ashamed, actually. Herah’s life has followed a fairly predictable path from farm girl to mercenary because she didn’t think that there was any other option for her, and she’d probably still be wandering around with the Valo-Kas and dreaming about Josephine if possible divine intervention hadn’t happened. Dagna, on the other hand, saw that she didn’t have any options and managed to create some anyway. She forced herself into places where she wasn’t allowed and now she has a job that nobody else in the world can do because no one else has her combination of skills and experience. Herah doesn’t know what else she could have done—it would have gone very differently if she’d shown up at one of the Circles and asked to study there—but she feels like there must have been some path she didn’t take because she wasn’t bold enough.

Much later, after they’ve already agreed to loan each other several books and Herah has a list of titles to try to find for her, Dagna looks oddly embarrassed.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, it’s silly, but… Do you know Sera? The archer with all the flasks?”

“Whatever she did, I am very sorry and I promise that the Inquisition will fix it or pay for a replacement-”

“No, just- Do you know if she’s, well, seeing anybody?”

“Oh! I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure that she isn’t.” Sera doesn’t seem like the type to be private about something like that.

“That’s good! Thanks. Well, it’s getting late, so-”

“Yes, I was just thinking that we should turn in for the night. It was very good meeting you, and I look forward to working with you.”

“You too!”

 

Solas visits her in the Fade that night. They’re in a version of Haven that was never destroyed, but it’s too empty to be a real memory. They explore different areas and talk about his decision to stay with the Inquisition, but Josephine’s voice is always there, no matter where they go. Herah is used to hearing her almost every night but she’s never been able to tune it out.

“Your Lady Josephine is loud,” Solas finally says.

“I’m trying to respect her privacy.”

“A noble intention.” 

“I used to watch her. I convinced myself that it was okay because we’d never actually meet, but now it feels unfair that I have all this background knowledge about her that she doesn’t have about me. I’m hoping that we can get to know each other on more equal terms.”

Almost anyone else would either warn her about the danger of being near her Voice or nag her about how she hasn’t actually said anything about this to Josephine, but Solas just gives her an approving nod and a smile.

 

Herah visits Adan the next morning. He hands the jar back to her, looking as grouchy as ever. “It’s mostly lanolin and sunflower oil,” he explains. “I wouldn’t eat it, but it’s not dangerous. As far as I can tell, it’s some kind of leather conditioner.”

“I know what it is.”

“Then why did I spend three hours yesterday analyzing this?”

“No, you were very helpful, thank you. Are you sure I can’t pay you?”

“Just leave me alone. I’ve wasted enough time on you already.” She could almost swear that he sounds affectionate.

Herah shoves the jar in her pocket and heads straight for the tavern. Iron Bull is there, looking relaxed and like he’s halfway to being drunk already, but she knows that it’s an act. “Hey, Boss.” He gestures lazily, as if he’s too tired to properly wave to her.

“Why did you send me horn balm?”

His posture doesn’t change but his expression is more alert. “I know how hard it can be to find that stuff down here. I was also trying to get a bulk discount.”

“I don’t need anything from you.” She knows that she sounds ridiculous but she doesn’t care.

“It’s not about what you need, it’s about acting like I’m on your side so you won’t see it coming when I inevitably turn on you.” He grins, showing his teeth. 

“Does it make people trust you when you say things like that?”

“You’d be surprised.” 

Herah forces herself not to cower or look away. “I heard that you carried me after I collapsed in the snow. You probably saved my life and I haven’t thanked you for it.” If nothing else, she can try to take the high road.

“No sweat. Literally, it was cold as shit.”

She doesn’t try to stop herself from rolling her eyes in response.

“Hey, the ambassador was asking me if it’s a Qunari custom for adults to give each other dolls. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“No.” He can probably tell that she’s lying.

“She’s your arvaarad, isn’t she?” 

“That’s private.” He can see that she’s trembling. She knows he can. She can’t think of a good way to end the conversation so she just turns and walks out the door, feeling moderately afraid and very foolish. 

“See you, boss!” he calls out. She doesn’t respond.

 

“So you’re a demon?” Herah hasn’t spend much time with the newest member of her squad but she has a lot of questions about him.

“I’m trying to be a spirit.” He has to tilt his head up at a ridiculous angle so that he can stare at her from underneath the brim of his hat. 

“Is that difficult?” He continues to just stare at her, making intense eye contact. “Is it harder to be a spirit instead of a demon?”

“I didn’t know what I was, before. Now I do.”

“So you came over to this side through the Breach?”

“No.”

She waits for him to explain. He doesn’t.

“ _If he’s not possessing anyone than how did he get here? Why is he wearing such a large hat? Do demons get sunburned?_ ” His imitation of her accent is uncanny.

“Oh- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” Herah can’t believe that she’s apologizing for her own private thoughts, but the rules seem to be different in this situation.

“ _Herah, you’re too curious for your own good_.” He sounds like her mother, before switching back to his normal voice. “You want to know as much as you can. Not to hoard knowledge, but to understand. It makes you happy. That is good.”

“I- thank you.” 

Cole disappears.

 

She walks across the battlements to Cullen’s office, where he’s busy working on something. “Oh, Inquisitor! I was hoping to see you, actually. I’ve learned more about Samson, and I believe that the best move right now would be to try to intercept red lyrium smugglers in the Emerald Graves.” 

“All right, I’ll make contact there and see what we can find.”

“Thank you.”

“I was wondering if I could speak with you privately?”

Cullen dismisses the scout that was standing near the door. “What is it?”

“Josephine and I-”

“Please, if it doesn’t directly concern the Inquisition, I’d rather not know. I don’t mean to be unkind but I have too many other pressing concerns right now.”

“I wasn’t planning to go into detail or anything. I was just worried that it would be a problem.”

“You are aware that I’ve spent my entire adult life surrounded by mages?” He gives her a pointed look. “Give me _some_ credit. Although I would encourage you to prevent it from becoming widely known, to the best of your ability.”

“Of course. Thank you. And I will look into the red lyrium smugglers, I promise.”

 

Herah had a strong suspicion about the identity of Varric’s mysterious contact, but it’s still a surprise when Hawke arrives to meet with her, looking like he stepped out of the pages of _Tale of the Champion_. 

Hawke is easily the most charismatic person she’s ever met. After talking with him briefly, she feels like she would follow him anywhere and commit to any cause that he asked her to support. It’s probably fortunate that they’re on the same side. Hawke seems to regard her as a fellow apostate and unlikely leader and he’s grateful for her support of the rebel mages. 

He is very similar to the person described in Varric’s book but there’s more nuance to him in real life. She suspects that Varric simplified him out of respect for his privacy, or maybe because he thought the book would sell better that way.

 

Dorian is in the library again when she returns to look for the books that Dagna requested. 

“I suppose I owe you an apology,” he says. He looks slightly uncomfortable. “I’ve attended so many schools that I sometimes forget that there are many people who have never set foot in one of them.” 

“Does everybody go to a lot of different schools?” Josephine only attended one, but maybe it’s different in Tevinter.

“I had several unfortunate habits, the most unfortunate of which was that it took me a very long time to learn how to avoid making enemies of the people who were in charge of my fate.”

“Are you saying that you got kicked out of school? …Multiple schools? Does that happen to a lot of people?”

“Multiple Circles _and_ several private tutors, yes. And that isn’t a typical experience, I’m rather special in that way. Alexius was really the last person who was willing to take a chance on me.”

“You sound so… flippant about it.”

“Would it be better if I sounded ashamed?”

“Obviously I don’t know the whole story, but it just seems selfish and irresponsible to throw away opportunities like that.” 

“Now you sound like my father. Are you going to complain that I’m an embarrassment to you, too?”

“Maybe you should have listened to him. Your family must have cared about you a lot, to put so much effort into your education.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” For the first time in this conversation, he sounds angry.

“I guess I don’t.” 

Neither of them say anything. Herah frantically tries to think of a way to salvage the conversation but she’s sure that anything she could say would make it worse. She just turns and leaves and Dorian doesn’t try to stop her.

On the way out of the library, she realizes that Skyhold looks different now because Vivienne has had the furniture rearranged. Herah doesn’t understand why they didn’t just put her in charge of decorating in the first place.

 

Herah is hopeful that talking with Josephine will improve her mood, but she’ll probably just be an asshole and end up arguing with her, too. She decides to risk it. 

As soon as she enters Josephine’s office, Josephine shuts the door behind them. She looks more worried than Herah has ever seen her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid that I must ask for your help, but first I should tell you something about my family.”


	8. Chapter 8

Josephine looks ashamed as she explains that her family has been in debt for over 100 years, as if she is worried that Herah will think less of her for it. Halfway through the conversation, she realizes that this is the big family secret that Josephine used to have anxiety dreams about. She never would have imagined that her own family actually has more money than Josephine’s.

She looks relieved when Herah tells her that _of course_ she’ll speak with the Comte about the attack on her couriers, as if there was a possibility that she wouldn’t do anything possible to help her.

Herah uses some of the horn balm before she leaves for Val Royeaux. She smears it over her horns and waits for a few tense minutes before she’s forced to conclude that it really is just horn balm. It isn’t particularly different from any other horn balm that she’s used, except that Iron Bull apparently prefers a sweet, flowery scent. She can see in the mirror that her horns are already looking healthier and less dry. It doesn’t make her trust Bull any more.

 

Comte Boisvert is wearing one of those creepy Orlesian masks that makes everybody seem like they have some kind of sinister ulterior motive, which is Herah’s excuse for why it takes longer than it should for her to realize that something is very wrong.

Her chair makes a loud scraping noise as she moves closer to Josephine. “Was there ever even a real Comte?” Her voice sounds too loud, and Josephine flinches. That was probably against the rules of the Game, or something, but _there is a contract on Josephine’s life_ and she doesn’t care about anything else right now.

The (figuratively, but not literally unmasked) assassin stands to leave. He is stoic, almost serene, but his eyes behind his mask are carefully watching Herah’s hands. She is almost pleased to see that he recognizes her as a threat.

Herah stands up and glares down at him, with the end of her staff pointed at his chest. It’s mostly a symbolic gesture because they both know that she could kill him easily without even touching her staff, but his posture tenses at the sight of her. Herah glances over to Josephine, who looks remarkably calm. She really is a master at this. She makes eye contact with Herah and there’s a barely-perceptible movement of her eyebrows that’s probably supposed to be communicating something. She’s just going to have to guess.

“You can go.” Herah withdraws her staff and the assassin disappears over the balcony. 

Josephine sighs and rests her face in her hands.

“Did I get it wrong?”

“No, that’s not- Do you hear something?”

“Now that you mention it, that sounds like… somebody yelling into a pillow?”

“Oh!” Josephine gets up to investigate, but then she stops and stares at Herah’s face. “Did you do something different with your hair?”

It’s just in a braid, like she always wears it. “No, not really.”

She tilts her head slightly. “You look nice today. That is, you always look-” She’s cut off by another muffled shout and she rushes back into the room, their conversation forgotten.

 

Herah had originally planned to travel on to the Dales after the meeting in Val Royeaux, but she insists on accompanying Josephine back to Skyhold. Josephine is coping with the situation better than Herah would have expected, but the atmosphere is tense and largely silent. She tries to make conversation about the plan that Josephine had mentioned. “You said that you could get the contract annulled?”

“It’s possible, yes. I’m sure that the Du Paraquettes would agree to it in exchange for being elevated to nobility again, but it’s going to be difficult.” She scribbles notes on a piece of paper. “This should work, but- what if I’m forgetting something?”

“What are the steps involved? Talk me through it.”

Josephine’s plan sounds complicated, but she goes through it several times and checks her notes to make sure that she hasn’t missed anything. By the time they reach Skyhold, she has several letters ready to send out.

Leliana meets them as soon as they arrive. Of course, she already knows everything that happened and she has strong opinions. “My agents can break in and destroy the contract,” she explains. “Once the physical contract is gone, there will be no proof that they are obligated to hunt you down and it should be easy to persuade them to stop.”

“And how many of their people will your agents have to kill in order to do that?” Josephine sounds incredulous.

“Does it matter, if your life is at risk?”

“Of course it matters!”

“Why must you make this so difficult, Josie?”

Herah finally spoke up. “Josephine knows the risks. It’s her life at stake here so she should decide.”

Leliana is visibly unhappy, but she lets the matter drop. They send the letters out, and Leliana goes back to the rookery while Herah follows Josephine to her office.

“My plan _will_ work,” she says, once they’re alone. It isn’t clear who she is talking to.

“Are you sure that this is worth it? I understand that you want to minimize bloodshed as much as possible and I really do respect that, but we need you. I don’t know what we would do without you.”

“Leliana seems to think that I undervalue my own life. In truth, I value others’ as highly as my own. I’m not worth more than anyone else.”

Herah nods. “I’m here to support you, whatever you need me to do.”

Josephine checks over her notes. “The first step is finding a sponsor for the Du Paraquettes. I sent a letter to a countess who will likely be willing to help us, but we can’t do anything else until we hear back from her.”

“All right.” 

Josephine moves to sit at her desk, signaling that the conversation is over, but Herah is still standing next to her. There’s an awkward silence. 

“I hope you understand that I’m not going to leave your side until this has been resolved.”

Josephine gives an embarrassed smile. “You really don’t need to do that. Leliana has already increased the number of people she has assigned to protect me.”

“It’s important to me to respect your wishes, but your life is just as important and I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe.”

Josephine tries to protest that surely Herah must have better things to do, but she doesn’t argue too much. 

 

It actually works fairly well. Herah pulls up a chair next to Josephine’s desk and sends someone to her room to get books and some documents that she needs to review. She and Josephine spend the rest of the afternoon working together in near-silence. Herah is constantly tempted to try to start a conversation with her, but she worries that Josephine will kick her out of her office if she bothers her too much. 

“Were you planning to eat dinner?” Josephine eventually asks.

“Were you?”

She looks amused. “I thought I might have some food brought here so I can continue working while I eat.” 

“Then I will do the same.”

Leliana has assigned agents who she trusts implicitly to oversee the preparation of everything that Josephine eats, but Josephine and Herah decide to order double portions of everything and make it known to the staff that they will randomly divide the food between them, hoping that the House of Repose wouldn’t be willing to risk poisoning the Herald of Andraste.

The food isn’t especially good (Leliana’s people must have been annoying the kitchen staff) but neither of them seem to have been poisoned. Herah anticipates at least another hour or so of silence before they tackle the issue of where she is going to sleep, but Josephine speaks up. 

“What are you reading that has you so upset? Every time I look at you, you’re scowling.”

Herah feels her face heat up at the realization that Josephine has been watching her. She holds up the book that she’s been reading. “It’s a Venatori tome. My trainer wants me to read three of these before I can start studying rift magic, but it’s really disturbing. They don’t even hesitate to kill a lot of people to get slightly more powerful, and then they write books bragging about it.”

“Is rift magic such a corrupt discipline?”

“Oh, no, it mostly just involves manipulating the Veil and throwing Fade rocks at people. I think she wanted me to study Venatori magic because the Tevinters have come farther in studying the Fade than almost anyone else has. I had a fourth book to read about the rifts but that one was a lot better. I’m also supposed to collect a lot of cloth, for some reason.”

“Perhaps you’ll be making armor for yourself?”

“Ooh, that would be interesting!” Herah has no idea if there is such a thing as specialized Rift Mage armor, but it makes more sense than any other explanation she’s been able to come up with.

Josephine moves a stack of papers out of the way to lean toward her. “I admit that I don’t know much about the Veil, other than that it separates us from the Fade and that the rifts in it are what’s causing-” she waves a hand around vaguely “-all of this chaos.”

“It’s really complicated. This isn’t a good metaphor, but you can sort of think of the Veil as a big bag that holds the Fade in. There are parts of the bag that are stronger and weaker, and then there are some places where it’s torn and demons spill out.”

“That actually make sense!” She is focusing all of her attention on Herah, her work forgotten.

“But that isn’t actually right because it’s not like we’re over here and the Fade is over there-” she gestures to the right and left of her “-and the Veil is a wall between us. It’s more like the Fade is everywhere, but we can’t see it or touch it because the Veil is in the way. That’s not right either, though.”

“I’m sorry?” Amazingly, Josephine is still listening intently.

“The Veil isn’t a physical barrier; it’s more like putting up wind chimes to keep animals away from your garden, except that it’s a sound without any noise.” Herah scrambles to figure out how to explain what she means, but Josephine doesn’t seem annoyed. Her puzzled face is actually kind of adorable. “You know those whistles that dog trainers use, the ones that dogs can hear but we can’t?”

“Yes!” Josephine looks relieved to understand _something_ that Herah is saying.”

“The trainer blows the whistle and we can’t see or hear anything, but the dog comes closer. It’s kind of like the opposite of that because it’s keeping the Fade back instead of calling it. The Veil is basically a sound that drives the Fade away, but we can’t hear it.”

“I think I understand better now, but how can a sound become torn?”

“I guess the best way to explain it is that there are gaps where there isn’t any sound and parts of the Fade can come through? It’s not a perfect metaphor.”

“That does sound very complicated! Thank you for explaining it to me.” 

Herah doesn’t know how to react. People who aren’t mages have usually stopped listening to her by this point (except for Karaas, but that’s only because she would politely listen to him rambling about the Canticle of Threnodies in return). “It’s no problem. What have you been working on?”

“It’s fairly dry, I’m afraid. I’ve been communicating with King Bhelen of Orzammar. It seems that he wants the civil war to end just as much as we do.”

“Didn’t he kill his brother? It’s very brave of you to try to work with him.”

She smiles at Herah. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think that incident was very well-known outside of Orzammar. And I appreciate your concern, but the Aeducans are hardly the only noble family with blood on their hands. This is an unfortunate reality in my line of work.”

Herah winces. She hadn’t intended to remind Josephine of her current situation. “Several years ago, back when I was a mercenary, I bought a book about dwarven politics because it was almost free and we were in the middle of nowhere with nothing else to do. I still get angry when I spend too long thinking about their caste system.”

“You’re always reading, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t realize that you’d noticed.”

“You’re rather hard to miss.”

Herah winces again. 

“I didn’t mean that as an insult. It’s more that you aren’t like anyone else I’ve ever met.”

Herah isn’t sure how to respond, but Josephine saves her by speaking up again. “It seems like you read all kinds of books. Do you have any favorites?”

“For most of my life, I ended up reading whatever I could find because I didn’t have many options. I’ve read a couple of cookbooks cover-to-cover when I was bored enough.” Josephine’s expression is hard to interpret. “As for my favorite… does the Saga of Tyrdda Bright-Axe count as a book?”

“I think that’s more of a long poem.”

“I’d have to say books about magic, then. Even when they’re full of disturbing blood magic—” she glares at the Venatori tome “—it’s always interesting to learn more. As far as fiction goes, I like books about women.”

“That isn’t very specific.” Josephine’s smile is affectionate.

“There are so many books where all of the main characters are men. It’s nice to read about women.”

“I hadn’t thought about that but you make a very good point.”

 

It is apparently “unseemly” for Herah to sleep on the floor outside of Josephine’s quarters, no matter how much she complains that she’s slept in worse conditions, and she refuses to entertain the idea of pushing for an invitation into Josephine’s bedroom.

“My room doesn’t have any windows, and the only entrance will be locked and barred from inside. Leliana has already assigned people to guard the door overnight. It would be ridiculous for someone to try to attack me in these circumstances, when they could just wait until the daytime when I am more exposed."

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

Josephine scoffs, but Herah eventually relents and agrees to sleep in her own room and meet Josephine early in the morning. 

 

The next day, Leliana informs them that she has already stopped one assassin who had managed to get inside of the castle before being discovered. She gives Josephine a pointed look but she doesn’t say anything else.

“I have a meeting this afternoon,” Josephine explains to Herah. “May I ask what you’re planning to do during that time?”

“Can I just sit in the corner and be quiet?” Josephine’s frown is her answer. “I can take notes for you! I might as well be useful while I’m guarding you, right?”

“It would look even stranger to see the Inquisitor acting as a common scribe.”

Herah would argue that they don’t have to tell anyone that she is the Inquisitor, but she has learned the hard way that strangers seem to know who she is even when she’s wearing gloves. “What should I do, then?”

“If you’re going to insist on being here, you must participate in the meeting.”

“I’m happy to do whatever I need to.”

In the end, it’s not so difficult. The visitor is Lady Seryl of Jader and Josephine explains that Herah is there to “oversee” the meeting. Lady Seryl says that she is delighted to meet her, which could potentially mean that she is flattered or that she feels insulted. Herah knows enough about the Game to know that people almost never say what they mean, but she can’t figure out what the actual truth is.

As instructed, Herah spends most of the evening sitting next to Josephine and looking important, while trying not to be too obviously in awe of how _good at this_ Josephine is. Herah only speaks when spoken to directly, and if she’s forced to answer a question she gives the vaguest answer possible accompanied by a slightly smug facial expression. It’s excruciating, but Josephine tells her afterward that the meeting went perfectly and they have secured the use of Seryl’s forces whenever they need them.

 

They settle into a routine. Herah sits in Josephine’s office and they work, mostly in silence. Herah would normally be happy to spend so much time alone with Josephine, but the atmosphere is tense, and the presence of the guards means that they can’t really have any intimate conversations. Herah’s inner circle sometimes stops by to talk with her, but the majority of the people coming in and out of the office are either Josephine’s staff or visiting dignitaries. Herah starts to recognize several individuals who are there often, but most of them are people who she doesn’t think she’s ever seen before. She hopes that Josephine is able to keep track of them.

It’s nice to be able to spend time with Josephine and feel comfortable, or as comfortable as either of them can be under the circumstances. It used to be that Herah couldn’t be near her without starting to fantasize about undoing the buttons on her blouse or lifting up her skirts and then feeling guilty for thinking about her like that. She would still happily undress Josephine if she thought it would be welcomed, but it’s wonderful to be friends with her too.

 

Henri Du Paraquette is a modestly-successful butcher with cramped, messy handwriting. He explains in his letter that he’d grown up hearing about how his family used to be related to nobility but he’d never really believed it. Henri doesn’t anticipate that being elevated to noble status will really have an effect on his life, but it would open up countless opportunities for his children that they wouldn’t have access to otherwise and _of course_ he would be happy to do anything he can to help Josephine with her problem.

 

The letter from Countess Dionne arrives soon afterward. She explains that she is willing to sponsor the Du Paraquettes, but if it’s not too much trouble, would Josephine be able to find out what happened to her poor lover? She reads aloud to Herah the story about how Dionne happened to meet a handsome Circle mage at a party (it’s like a gender-inverted version of Vivienne’s story, actually) and continued to exchange letters with him and meet in person whenever they could, until she lost contact with him after the Conclave explosion. 

“We have to find him,” Herah says. “Even if he’s dead, Dionne deserves to know.”

“I am confident that the Inquisition will be able to locate him.” Josephine assigns people to make contact with the loyalist mages to investigate if any of them know where Ellerly is.

 

The letter from Judge Auld arrives next. He is willing to sign the papers, but he would like Inquisition soldiers to help him kill a giant spider.

“He can’t hire mercenaries for something like that? The Valo-Kas used to get paid to help bored rich people hunt large animals.” It wasn’t the worst way to make money, and she has some interesting stories about jobs like this.

“He is requesting people who are familiar with the area. I believe that he also wants to be publicly associated with the Inquisition.” She discusses the matter with Cullen, who thinks that the whole situation is ridiculous but agrees to send some of his soldiers along with the hunting party. 

 

When it happens, it’s on a morning when Herah’s head hurts because she was too worried last night to sleep well. She’s sitting in her chair next to Josephine’s desk and trying to focus on Helisma’s reports about her research when a man in an Inquisition scout’s uniform enters the room. Josephine looks confused to see him even though he seems to know exactly what he’s doing. Most people stop a few feet away from her desk but he gets too close, too quickly. Herah is already on her feet when she sees the glint of his knife.

It happens instantly. He pulls the knife out and Herah freezes him without thinking about it. In the next moment, Josephine jumps out of her chair and clings to Herah while two of Leliana’s guards appear from the shadows. The ice shatters as they attack him.

Herah has one arm curled protectively around Josephine, who is holding onto her and trembling. Her other arm is still outstretched toward the space where the assassin stood. The guards are standing over the chunks of frozen meat on the floor. Josephine shudders and holds tightly to Herah, pressing her face against Herah’s chest. Her heart is beating quickly.

“I’m sorry. I know that we’re supposed to be trying to do this _without_ killing people."

“There wasn’t anything else that you could do.” Josephine’s voice is wavering but she doesn’t sound angry. 

Leliana rushes in less than a minute later, even though Herah hadn’t noticed anybody leaving to get her. They debrief her on the incident as she assigns someone to clean up the floor.

“This should not have happened!” She sounds angry, but not at anyone in particular. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Josephine is still clinging to Herah but she isn’t shaking anymore. “Our Inquisitor saved me.”

Leliana gives Herah an odd look but she doesn’t address her directly. “I was very careful to check _everyone_ … I will increase the number of guards protecting you, and the people monitoring anyone who enters the castle, and I must…” she walks off, still muttering about things that she needs to do.

Josephine slowly pulls away from Herah. “Thank you. If you hadn’t been here-”

“The guards would have killed him before he got to you.”

“Still, it’s scary to think about.”

“Is there anything I can do?” She’s almost tempted to offer to storm the House of Repose herself and kill everyone who gets in her way.

“You’ve already done so much to help me. I just hope that this is over soon.” Josephine, still visibly shaken, goes back to her work.

Herah thinks about how Josephine is very aware of what the stakes are here and yet she hasn’t changed her mind at all. She is willing to risk her own life rather than go against her principles, and she will always be a better person than Herah is.

 

Two more letters arrive the next day. The first is from Ellerly, who was injured and then became sick with an infection after the Conclave. The Inquisition was able to get him to a healer and his letter says that he will be on his way to meet Dionne as soon as he is able. Josephine’s face lights up as she shows the letter to Herah, happy that this situation has led to a good outcome for at least two people.

Herah tries to read between the lines of Ellerly’s letter to figure out if Dionne is his Voice, but his words are almost infuriatingly vague.

The second letter is from the Marquis Wiscotte, asking for a favor in exchange for _allowing_ Herah to attend his party, as if that’s something that she would ever do if she didn’t have to, so that she can meet the minister who will hopefully finish this whole business. Josephine is able to arrange the favor for him easily, but Herah will have to attend the party in person for him to arrange the meeting. 

“I will be fine,” Josephine tries to reassure her.

“You almost got killed!”

“Leliana has taken steps to ensure that it can’t happen again. I appreciate your caution but I will not be safe until this matter is resolved, and the only way to do that is for you to travel to Val Royeaux.” It is true that there have been even more guards around since the assassination attempt, but that doesn’t reassure Herah very much.

“I expect letters from you every day to let me know that you’re alive.”

“Of course.”

 

The letters help, but Herah still spends the entire trip to Val Royeaux sick with worry. It’s a relief to go to sleep at night and hear Josephine calling to her in the Fade. 

Herah meets with Dionne first, on the afternoon of the party. She is wearing a dress with a large ruff around her neck and a hat that covers most of her face, even though she also has a mask. Herah wonders if she feels insecure about how she looks. She can hear Dionne start to weep when she gives her Ellerly’s letter.

The meeting with Minister Bellise is much less pleasant. Herah has to bribe her with the promise of more favors and diplomatic connections before she will agree to ratify the proposal, but she finally agrees.

Herah immediately sends letters to everybody involved. True to their agreements, Bellise ratifies the Du Paraquette’s return to nobility, and Henri nullifies the contract as soon as he can. Herah receives word that Josephine is going to meet her in Val Royeaux and she feels like she can finally breathe freely again. 

 

She sees Josephine at the docks, unafraid even though she is out in the open and surrounded by strangers. It’s a beautiful sight. The moment she sees Herah, she rushes to embrace her. She presses her body against Herah’s, warm and comforting and solid. It’s over too quickly.

“We actually did it! Or, you did it and I helped pass some messages along.”

”We did it,” Josephine says firmly.

They watch the ships for a while before Josephine breaks the silence. “I don’t believe I’ve ever told you this, but I used to be a bard,” she says, and she tells the story about the knife and the stairs that Herah has seen countless times in her nightmares. 

“It’s not your fault.” It must be the fiftieth time that she has said this but it’s the first time that Josephine can hear her. “I have a lot of respect for you,” she continues. “Honestly, I’ve always hated violence but I spent most of my life as a mercenary because I didn’t think I had any other choices. You always manage to find another option and I really admire that about you.”

They’re standing very close together and Josephine is looking at her with something like wonder in her expression. If there were a time to tell her, this would be it, but- Josephine has already been through too much recently.

 

Herah doesn’t think anything of it at first when she hears that Leliana wants to speak with her, but she starts to wonder as she walks up the stairs to the rookery. She normally just sends a messenger if there’s something that Herah needs to be aware of. The fact that she passed the message along through Josephine is odd, and potentially alarming. It suggests that this is something more personal than Inquisition business.

The rookery is always very loud, which is probably at least partially by design. “You wanted to see me?” she asks.

“Yes. Please, sit down.” Leliana gestures to one of the tables, and she comes to join her in the opposite seat. She looks serious. 

“What’s going on?”

“I’ve noticed your behavior toward Josephine.”

“What do you mean?” 

“She is an innocent in love. Her affections are _not_ to be toyed with.”

“You think I’m toying with her?”

Leliana speaks carefully. Her expression is cold. “If your intentions are indeed sincere, Josephine has no idea.”

“She doesn’t think it’s real?” Her voice cracks and it’s probably very obvious that she’s on the verge of crying, but she doesn’t care.

She’d heard that Antivans flirt as easily as they breathe, but it had never occurred to her that Josephine would dismiss everything between them as some kind of casual pastime. She’s accepted the fact that Josephine may not want want to be involved with her romantically, and may never want Herah to be bonded to her, but she’d always taken it for granted that the tension between them was _real_.

“ _Are_ your intentions sincere? I don’t have time for games, Inquisitor.”

“I-” she takes a breath. If Leliana doesn’t already know, she will probably figure it out soon. “She’s my Voice.”

“How wonderful!” 

“-what?”

Leliana looks younger and happier than Herah has ever seen her. “I had no idea. The Chantry has a rather closed-minded opinion of Voices, but I’ve seen firsthand how much joy such a pairing can bring to everyone around them. But why haven’t you told her yet?”

“I didn’t tell her at first because I wanted her to get to know me, and then it felt awkward that I’d been keeping it from her all this time, and we’ve been getting along so well lately and I don’t want to ruin things between us.” It had made perfect sense in her head but it sounds ridiculous when she says it out loud.

“You must tell her everything!”

“But what if she-” _What if she rejects me, what if she’s uncomfortable, what if she likes me but she thinks that we can’t be together-_

“She has the right to know. Either tell her plainly, or stop toying with her.” Most of the warmth drops out of her face, but there’s a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “Do I need to remind you that I could easily have you killed and make it look like an accident?”

“Okay, I’ll tell her. Right now.” She can do this. She’s been telling herself that she has to do it and then talking herself out of it, but Leliana’s wrath is probably the incentive that she needs.

“See that you do, Inquisitor.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Can I speak with you?”

“Of course.” Josephine is as calm and professional as always but Herah can tell that she’s curious. “Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s just- I think this is something that needs to be said privately.”

Herah doesn’t know what is showing on her face, exactly, but Josephine immediately stands up and flags down one of her assistants. “Please clear my schedule for the rest of the evening.” She starts walking out of her office.

“You don’t have to-” Herah starts to say but the assistant ignores her and rushes off to notify the relevant people while Josephine heads in the opposite direction. She winces. “It’s not anything urgent. I could have waited until later.” She follows Josephine most of the way back to her own room before she realizes where they’re going. 

“You really didn’t have to do that,” she insists.

“I’ve never seen you look so uncomfortable, even after you almost died in Haven.”

“It’s- I’m all right,” she says, even though she isn’t.

They reach Herah’s room and sit down at opposite ends of the couch. Herah crosses and uncrosses her legs and shifts her hands from her lap to resting on the couch and back again. 

Josephine is sitting with her hands folded and her skirt fanned out neatly. If it weren’t for the concerned expression on her face, she would look like she’s posing for a formal portrait. “What did Leliana say?”

“She was worried about the attention that I’ve been paying you. She believed that my… _intentions_ are untoward.”

Josephine scoffs. “I’m not a child who needs to be protected from the real world, or whatever Leliana seems to think. I understand perfectly well that you don’t have any kind of romantic interest in me.”

It hurts so much that Herah very nearly starts crying again. She lets herself slump sideways against the back of the couch. The fabric is rough against her cheek.

“Is something wrong?”

It takes Herah almost half a minute to figure out how to respond, but Josephine is patient. “Are you familiar with the concept of Voices? The ones that mages have.”

“The idea that every mage has a soulmate, who they have the potential to bond with and disrupt the Chantry?”

Herah nods, not trusting herself to speak right now.

“It’s one of those stories that everyone has heard but nobody discusses in polite company. I've noticed that mages seem to be a popular target for salacious rumors, like the one about all of the enchanters in the Circle joining together for an orgy during the full moon.” If Herah were even slightly less upset, she wouldn’t be able to cope with Josephine saying the word orgy while she is sitting primly and covered in ruffles. Josephine continues, “I’d always assumed that there must be some truth to what they say about Voices. I’ve never actually met anyone who had a soulmate, but the stories have been around long enough that they can’t be completely baseless.”

“You’d have to ask Vivienne about what they did in the Circles, but Voices are very real.”

Josephine’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

“You’re my Voice,” she says quickly, before she can stop herself, and then she tells her everything. She explains about how Taashath taught her how to enter the Fade and find Josephine the first time, and how she watched her dreams since they were children but she stopped after they actually met in the physical world. Josephine looks relieved to hear this. 

She tells her that, if they were Qunari, Josephine would control everything Herah did, but since they aren’t Qunari she has no idea what their relationship should be like. Herah says that she doesn’t know if they can actually harm the Chantry in any way, but she has no intention of doing so. She cringes as she tells Josephine about the way that she always feels drawn to her, even without a bond in place, and about the warm, soft feeling that’s always there when Josephine is nearby.

Josephine is very quiet for a long time, then- “You… fell in love with me when I was a chubby little girl with frizzy hair?” She doesn’t sound angry.

“Of course I did,” Herah says weakly.

Josephine smiles at her and Herah feels herself smiling back. The warm, comforting feeling is stronger than ever. “I have been… captivated by you since the moment we met. I assume that I would feel similarly even if I wasn't your Voice, but it’s good to know that there’s an explanation for it.”

“What?” 

“The first time I met you at the Chantry in Haven, I’d never seen anyone who was so beautiful and so powerful at the same time. Everybody was staring at you, but you had no idea, did you? You were too busy looking at all of the statues.”

“There were so many dogs.”

“You were the most fascinating person I’d ever met but you didn’t seem to realize it because you were full of questions about everything and everybody else.” A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. “You were also completely out of your depth when it came to anything political, and I was constantly afraid that you were going to get yourself killed.”

“How fortunate that I have you to keep me alive, then.” Herah feels out of breath. This conversation is going very differently than she’d ever dared to hope it would.

“You’ve already saved my life, so I believe I owe you.” She twists her hands in her lap, the first sign that she is anything other than perfectly calm. “So, now that we’ve gotten all of this out in the open, what shall we do?”

Herah takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “I don’t know what to do about any of the Fade business, but I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will.” Josephine leans forward so that her forehead and nose are touching Herah’s and her mouth is teasingly close, but instead of bringing their mouths together she lifts a hand up to cup Herah’s face. “I never imagined that I would get to do this,” she whispers.

“Neither did I,” Herah says, and she tilts her face to bring their lips together.

Herah once read a book where two lovers’ first kiss after months of pining was compared to an explosion, and she read a different book that described mouths crashing together and tongues fighting for dominance, but kissing Josephine isn’t at all like anything so violent. Her mouth is soft and wet and she tastes like the tea she’s always drinking. Josephine’s hand is still on Herah’s face, a gentle counterpoint to the arousal that she can feel sparking throughout her body. Herah had always thought that kissing was, well, _nice_ \- something fun to do that gets you in the mood for other things, but kissing Josephine is intense in a way that she didn’t know was possible, and she _wants_ her so badly that she can hardly think. Then again, that’s been true for as long as she can remember.

Josephine kisses like she’s starving, with her mouth frantic and both hands holding onto Herah’s face now. Herah kisses her back, just as deliriously hungry. She wants to touch her everywhere, to press her body against Josephine’s and feel as much of her as possible, but their knees are in the way. She settles for resting a hand on Josephine’s thigh and starting to move it up, under her skirt. She’s wearing bloomers but Herah can feel the contours of her leg underneath, and Josephine moans softly in response. She brings her hands down to touch Herah’s breasts. “Is this all right?” she asks, shifting her mouth away to whisper against her cheek.

“Yes, please.” It’s closer to a moan than actual words. 

Herah leans forward to kiss along Josephine’s neck as she finds Herah’s nipples through her shirt and teases them to hardness with her thumbs. It’s heady, intoxicating, and Herah is so overwhelmed that she can’t do much more than close her eyes and gasp against Josephine’s skin as her hips squirm helplessly. She tries to squeeze her thighs together but she can’t even do that without moving farther away from Josephine, which is absolutely out of the question. “Oh fuck,” she says, without really meaning to.

“I certainly hope so.” Josephine sounds pleased with herself.

That actually brings up a very important point that they need to discuss before this progresses any further. “We should talk,” she manages to say.

Josephine flicks her fingers across one of her nipples in a way that makes her utter a strangled-sounding noise, which Josephine cuts off in another kiss. 

She forces herself to break the kiss. “Really, we need to talk.”

“What’s wrong?” Josephine drops her hands and leans back, but Herah has to get up and stare at the fireplace for a moment before she can think clearly again. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, just give me a moment.” She crosses her arms, uncrosses them, and walks over to the wall and rests her head against it. It’s cool and slightly bumpy and it almost helps to take her mind off the tension in her body. “Nothing’s wrong, it’s just- I don’t know what the Fade considers to be sex between two women, so we’ll need to be careful to not bond with each other.”

“How does bonding work, exactly? I admit that I have heard more about the political and social ramifications than the actual details of how it happens.” Josephine’s face is flushed and hair is in disarray. It’s very distracting.

“If we sleep together, I’ll be bonded to you. It’s hard to explain, but there will be a connection between our minds where we can feel each others’ feelings. The connection will also make it harder for demons to possess me and it’ll make my magic stronger.”

“That is certainly practical.” Her voice sounds thoughtful. “But what about the danger to the Chantry?”

“I don’t know how much of that is real, but at best the Chantry will be unhappy with us. We’ll also be bonded together for life.” 

“So it’s not a decision to be made lightly.”

“Exactly.” 

Josephine hasn’t outright rejected the idea yet, which is making Herah’s mind spin in lots of dangerous directions.

“What, exactly, would we need to do in order to trigger the bond?”

“I’m not sure. My mentor was always too embarrassed to go into much detail about it. He said that sexual contact causes a bond to form, but sometimes people can do it without having sex, and of course there are a lot of different ways that people are sexually intimate with each other…”

“It’s something to consider in the future, perhaps, but I agree that we should be careful for now.” 

It’s definitely not a ‘no.’ Herah can feel her heart start to beat faster.

Josephine stands up. She’s a few feet away from Herah. She takes a step closer and Herah suddenly doesn’t know what to do with her hands. “For now, I would not be opposed to pursuing a… romantic relationship with you, if you would also be interested?” Despite everything, she still sounds like she isn’t sure what the answer will be.

“Do you really mean that?”

Her face falls. “I thought that’s what you meant when you said that you were mine, if I would have you.”

“Yes, that is what I meant, but- do you really mean that you want to-” She doesn’t belong in Josephine’s life. She’s known this for decades… but Josephine just kissed her enthusiastically and expressed interest in a relationship, and Herah is trying to talk both of them out of it because apparently she is an _idiot_. “That was ridiculous, I’m sorry. Yes, of course I would love to be in a relationship with you.”

“I think that we are both being very silly right now, but that is certainly good to hear.” Josephine walks the rest of the way toward Herah, until she’s also standing next to the wall. She looks up at Herah, frowning, but her eyes are sparkling. “Your face is too far away now.”

“I can help with that,” she says, and bends down to kiss her. With her hands at Josephine’s waist, she mostly feels layers of fabric and the structure of her dress, but she can almost make out the shape of soft curves underneath. Josephine stands on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around Herah’s shoulders. “Are you trying to climb me?” she asks, shifting her face to kiss Josephine’s neck again.

“It would be easier if you lifted me instead.”

And, well, Herah’s pretty confident that she could lift Josephine without injuring either of them, so she holds on to either side of Josephine's body and picks her up. 

Josephine makes a squealing noise and grabs onto Herah's shoulders. Her legs wrap around Herah’s waist. “I didn’t mean that literally!”

“Should I put you down?” 

“Don’t you _dare_.”

She turns so that she’s facing the wall, pressing Josephine back against it so that it’s easier to kiss her without losing her balance. Josephine gasps into her mouth. “How are you like this?”

“Like what?” she murmurs against Josephine’s hair.

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not sure that I do.” 

“You are _impossible_ ” she says, fondly, which is cut off by a soft moan when Herah pushes her gently against the wall and kisses her again. She’s essentially got Josephine pinned in place, but she doesn’t seem to mind at all. On the contrary, it almost feels like she’s trying to grind herself against Herah’s stomach. She grips Josephine’s thighs, grateful that her skirts and undergarments aren’t made of the same shiny fabric as her blouse, and presses harder against the place where Josephine’s legs meet. She can’t be able to get much friction like this, with all of her clothes in the way, and Herah’s stomach is too soft for it (she thinks about how her thigh or the palm of her hand would work much better) but Josephine doesn’t seem bothered. 

She can’t believe that Josephine’s tongue is licking the inside of her mouth while she ruts herself desperately against Herah, when two days ago she would never have imagined-

No. She _will not_ ruin this by overthinking it.

Herah pulls away long enough to see the expression on Josephine’s face. It’s a combination of desire and happiness that makes her look wrecked, and Herah decides that her primary goal in life is to make Josephine look like this as often as possible. 

“I love you,” Josephine says, suddenly.

“Do you now?” Her voice sounds more teasing than she thought she was capable of.

“I’ve wanted to say it for so long.”

“Mmm, I love you too,” she says as she leans forward to press Josephine against the wall and kiss her languidly. Josephine is whining in the back of her throat, and Herah can’t remember ever being this aroused.

There’s the feeling she has when Josephine is near, and then there’s so much ambient magic around Skyhold that Herah takes longer than she should to notice that she can feel something else. It feels _good_ but it’s strong and insistent, creeping around the edges and filling in the gaps where they aren’t pressed together. She nearly drops Josephine when she realizes that it’s the bond between them, threatening to connect.

She breaks the kiss and sets Josephine down on the floor as gracefully as she can. She notices that her arms are sore. “Maybe we should stop for now.” 

Josephine looks embarrassed, but she’s smiling. “Yes. I should go back to my office and-”

“No, you’re welcome to stay! Unless you need to leave?”

“Honestly, I would much rather stay here and enjoy your company. Perhaps there’s something else that we can do?”

Herah looks around her room. There’s the bed and the couch, which are both dangerous to think about right now, a chest of drawers, her desk piled high with books and papers…

“Do you play Wicked Grace?” She follows Josephine’s gaze to a deck of cards that she’d forgotten she had.

“Occasionally, and not very well.” 

“I’ll go easy on you.”

They take off their shoes and sit on the bed. Herah can’t stop staring at Josephine’s hands as she shuffles and deals the cards with a deftness that really shouldn’t come as a surprise.

Herah wins the first hand through sheer luck, and the second because she was dealt very good cards and managed to convince Josephine that she had only a moderately good hand, but Josephine wins the next three hands and it isn’t long before Herah is forced to admit that she’s been thoroughly beaten, even though they aren’t even playing for anything.

“How are you so good at this?”

“I know you. You’re not obvious about your feelings, but you don’t hide them well enough either.” Josephine looks serious, but not unhappy. “It’s still hard to believe that I have a soulmate.”

“I’m sure it must be. I’m sorry to just put all of this on you.”

“No, I’m glad you told me.” She’s looking out the window. It’s almost completely dark outside.

“You’re welcome to spend the night with me.”

Josephine’s eyebrows raise in mock scandal. “My dear Inquisitor, how very forward of you!” 

“Have you forgotten about me pinning you against the wall, or was that not forward enough?”

“I don’t imagine that I’ll ever forget about that.” Her gaze is heated and Herah’s mind goes blank for a moment.

“Anyway, the invitation stands. You can wear some of my clothes to bed, if you want.”

“I believe I will.”

Herah has shared rooms and tents with lots of people over the course of her life. The process of getting ready for bed while another person is in the room doing the same thing has never felt especially intimate before. 

She manages to find a shirt that’s in good enough condition that she isn’t embarrassed to loan it to Josephine, but not so nice that Josephine will object to wearing it to bed. She stands at the opposite end of the room while Josephine changes, because it seems safer somehow, but she doesn’t try to hide the fact that she’s watching her. Herah is vaguely aware that she is supposed to be taking off her own clothes, but it’s too tempting to try to study Josephine’s outfit and remember how to remove all of her layers for future reference.

Josephine starts by unclasping her necklace and laying it down over a stack of books on Herah’s desk. That seems easy enough to understand, but then she takes off three different belts, revealing what looks like a very long vest with pockets.

“I don’t know what kind of face you’re making right now but it doesn’t seem like a good response to watching someone take her clothes off.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, embarrassed. “I had no idea that you were wearing so many layers and I’m trying to keep track of how it all goes together.” Too late, she thinks that she probably should have been taking notes.

“I will have to get dressed and undressed in front of you until you learn, then.” 

She continues to watch Josephine take off various articles of clothing and lay them flat to air out. There’s the blue thing with pockets, a skirt, something that Herah thinks is called a cravat, bloomers, a blouse, stockings, and then Josephine is just standing there in Herah’s office clad only in impossibly frilly undergarments.

She looks even smaller like this, despite her broad hips and fat thighs and endless soft-looking skin. 

Herah would have thought that she would be disappointed to see Josephine put more clothes on, but seeing her in Herah’s own shirt is even more compelling. She buttons the shirt slowly, starting at the bottom and working her way up to the top. The shirt hangs down to her knees and slightly off her shoulder. She has to roll the sleeves up.

“You look dazed.”

Herah realizes that she’s been staring, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. “I’m sorry?”

“No, it’s cute. Are you going to get dressed for bed?”

She looks down and sees that she managed to get one leg out of her pants before getting distracted. She feels self-conscious as she methodically removes the rest of her clothes and sets them aside for washing. Josephine seems to like how she looks, but she is suddenly very aware of the scars and bruises marring her body. Herah is accustomed to fighting alongside warriors who make her feel soft and weak, but right now it’s hard not to think about how lovely and smooth Josephine’s skin is.

Herah buttons up her sleep-shirt and doesn’t look at Josephine until she’s dressed again. Josephine doesn’t say anything, just crosses the room and tugs at Herah’s shoulders until she bends down to kiss her. There are fewer layers in between them now and Herah can feel more of Josephine’s body.

“Your legs are even longer than I’d thought,” Josephine murmurs in between kisses, “and your hips! I don’t know how anyone can be expected to maintain composure in a world where your hips exist.” Her kisses are soft and open-mouthed. Herah runs a hand along her back, coming to rest at her waist. “Your arms and shoulders are simply amazing,” she continues, “and you have lovely breasts, even though I think I’ve already made it clear how much I appreciate them.” She illustrates this by cupping one of Herah’s breasts and barely teasing at her nipple.

“Keep going,” Herah says, even though she’s starting to sound breathless again. “You haven’t even mentioned my nose yet.”

“It’s a delightful nose,” she says immediately. “But we should finish getting ready for bed.” 

“Yes, we should.”

Neither of them move for several seconds.

Herah brushes out her hair and offers her hairbrush to Josephine, but she explains that her hair looks horrible if she brushes it when it’s dry. Instead, she takes out a surprising number of hairpins and twists her hair up into a bun to keep it from getting more tangled overnight. They wash their faces and clean their teeth.

Finally, it’s time for bed. Herah draws back the bedspread. 

“Thank you,” Josephine says, bowing slightly before she climbs in. It wasn’t one of the fancier-looking beds that she could find in Val Royeaux, but it was one of the longer ones. She hopes that Josephine will find it comfortable. She climbs in on the other side and lies down across from Josephine. It feels like she’s too close and too far away at the same time.

“It’s hard to believe that you’ve known me since we were children.” Herah feels a flash of guilt that must be visible on her face because Josephine rushes to say “No, I’m not upset about it. You just have me at a disadvantage.”

“Is there anything you want to know about me? I will answer any question; it’s only fair.”

Her response is almost immediate. “What is your favorite color?”

Herah is surprised by the question, but she did say that she would answer anything. “Pale blue. Like the color of the sky when the weather is nice, or these wildflowers that used to grow by my parents' house back in the Free Marches.”

“That does sound pretty.” She sounds like she approves.

“What about you?”

“Dark purple."

“I haven’t seen you wear purple since you were a teenager.” 

Josephine doesn't seem bothered by the strangeness of Herah's comment. “It was pointed out to me that purple doesn’t go with my complexion, but it’s still my favorite color.”

“I remember you looking beautiful in it. You shouldn't listen to whoever said that.”

Josephine has managed to get closer. Herah reaches out to stroke her hand along Josephine’s side. She can feel her hipbone jutting out beneath her shirt.

Josephine’s hand is on her shoulder. “Have you ever gone to bed with a human?”

“No. There was only one other person, and she was Vashoth.” 

“Did she hurt you?”

The question comes as a surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You looked sad when you mentioned her.”

“Oh, no. It was never anything serious with her, but she was always kind to me. I just feel guilty that I knew you were my soulmate but I didn’t wait for you.”

Josephine scoffs and moves closer to hug Herah’s shoulder. “You can’t be expected to be faithful to someone you’ve never met! Besides, I’m hardly a maiden myself, despite what Leliana seems to think.”

“What about you, then? Have you ever been with a Qunari?”

“No, just humans. Even though I did kiss an elf once.” She nuzzles closer and Herah can feel her breasts pressing against her. “People do it though, don’t they? Humans and Qunari together?”

“Because of the size difference, you mean?” Right now it feels like they fit perfectly together.

“It shouldn’t be an issue, should it?”

“I don’t think so. I keep hearing humans and elves brag about how they slept with the Ion Bull, and he’s much larger than I am.” She wraps her arm around Josephine’s back, holding her close. “I’ll make sure to be gentle, just in case.”

“You don’t have to be _that_ gentle.”

Herah doesn’t know what to say to that, has no idea how to react except to twist her head down to capture Josephine’s mouth in a kiss. Josephine grips Herah’s back and she grabs the back of Josephine’s hair. There’s no talking this time, it’s just desire and _need_. Their bodies are pressed together and Josephine’s got her leg hooked over Herah’s but it’s not enough. She can’t think of anything except for how much she needs to touch her, everywhere.

They somehow end up rolling over so that Herah is on top of Josephine without breaking the kiss. She tries to support as much of her weight as possible on her arms and knees, but it’s difficult when Josephine is reaching underneath Herah’s sleep-shirt to grab at her ass and pull her down. She ends up with her knee between Josephine’s thighs, and she’s suddenly very aware that neither of them are wearing pants. 

Josephine’s shirt gets pushed up to somewhere around her hips and her thighs part, allowing Herah’s leg to slip between them until she can feel that Josephine is _slick_ there-

“Shit!” Herah pushes away and scrambles back, breathing hard. When she trusts herself to open her eyes, she sees that Josephine has managed to cover herself, but she looks as flushed and disheveled as Herah feels. 

“Was that-?”

“I guess we found out where the line is.” She’d managed to rip apart the bond between them before it managed to solidify but there is still something hovering invisibly in the air, threatening to bind them together.

She lays back down, farther away from Josephine. Her heart is still pounding. Josephine fixes her hair again.

“Uh, do you have any more questions?”

Josephine laughs weakly. “You’re not Andrastian, are you?”

At least that was a question that was unlikely to get sexual. “No. I don’t really believe in anything. Not anything religious, at least.”

“Why not? I’m not criticizing you, but most people have faith of some kind and I’m curious about why you don’t.” 

“It probably would have been different if my parents were devout, but they left religion behind when they abandoned the Qun. Granted, my brother is Andrastian and our parents have never tried to discourage him. I suppose I never saw any need for it.” Josephine smiles encouragingly and reaches across the bed to squeeze Herah’s arm. “It seems like everything in the world can be explained by science, or by magic. Even the things that we don’t understand have a solution somewhere. I like learning about religion but I’ve never felt the need to practice it.” She’d always been interested in the Rivaini faith, from what Taashath had told her. She was also curious to learn more about the elven gods but Sera and Solas both got irritated whenever she brought up the subject.

Josephine is still smiling at her. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. To me, faith is more about my relationships with other people than with the Maker or Andraste. You could say that the Chantry has always been an important part of my culture, in both Antiva and Orlais. I remember being a girl and getting dressed up to go to weddings and funerals and feast day celebrations. It was often the only time I would see most of my cousins.” She looks wistful. “Now, my job is to find common ground between people who have good reasons to mistrust each other, and faith in Andraste is sometimes the only place to start. It’s about so much more than just belief.”

“Honestly, I hadn’t thought of it that way, either.” Karaas’ faith had always been a very thoughtful, intellectual experience. She’d assumed it was like that for everyone.

Josephine lets her hand trail down Herah’s shoulder until they’re holding hands under the bedcover. Herah brings Josephine’s hand up to her mouth to kiss the back of her knuckles. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” she explains.

Josephine giggles. “All right, I have another question for you. What is the significance behind the doll you gave me? I assume that it must be some kind of Vathoth tradition? So little is known about Vashoth culture-”

Herah bursts out laughing.

“I’m sorry?”

“No, it’s just- It’s embarrassing, but it isn’t any kind of custom. I bought it for you when we were children because you used to dream a lot about playing with your dolls and I thought you would like it, and I could never bring myself to get rid of it.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you! I can only imagine, keeping it in good condition for so long.” Josephine shifts forward to kiss Herah again and it isn’t long before the kiss becomes heated. 

Josephine is the one to pull away first. “I apologize,” she says, not looking sorry at all.

“I expect that we’re going to spend the rest of the night teasing each other.”

“There are certainly worse ways to spend an evening.”

Herah leans forward to kiss her again, chastely this time.

 

She doesn’t know when she falls asleep, exactly, but she finds herself in the Fade with Josephine’s voice calling to her from somewhere in the distance. “Sleep well,” she calls back. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Herah wakes up as the sun starts to rise. Josephine is still lying next to her but she’s awake.

“Good morning.”

“Were you watching me sleep?”

“Not for long. I just woke up and I realized that I haven’t spent much time looking at your horns. They’re very attractive- elegant, even.”

Herah blinks, still sleepy. “I have… elegant horns?”

“You do.”

“That almost sounds like I should wear ribbons on them or something.”

“Do people do that?”

“I’ve never heard of it but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Josephine starts to reach out her hand toward Herah’s head but stops herself. “Can I touch them?”

“You are welcome to touch me anywhere you want.” She moves closer to Josephine and watches out of the corner of her eye as Josephine very gently strokes her hand up and down.

“Can you feel that?”

“No. They’re like fingernails, except that they don’t grow back if you cut them.”

“It’s smoother than I expected.” She traces the outline of Herah’s ear, making her shiver. “Do all Qunari have pointed ears?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice that before.”

“Most humans don’t. I think the horns are distracting.”

Their morning in bed is cut short as they both realize that they have work to do. Josephine dresses herself in last night’s clothes and pins her hair up without even looking in a mirror. She explains that she’ll have to go back to her room to freshen up before meeting with visitors, but by all accounts she looks like she’s ready to attend an important diplomatic function. Herah decides that it must be some kind of secret bard trick.

They end up kissing at least three more times before Josephine finally leaves. “I love you,” she says. “I will see you at the war council meeting this afternoon.”

It’s embarrassing to think about being in a room with Josephine along with Cullen, who knows the exact nature of their relationship, and Leliana, who knows _everything_ , but she can’t wait to see her again. “I love you too.”


	10. Chapter 10

_My dear Josephine,_

_I’ve noticed that Leliana calls you Josie but nobody else does. Do you prefer Josephine, or Josie, or something else? I also should have asked about this before I left, but is there anything that I should avoid writing about in letters to you? I’m aware that Leliana’s agents read many of the letters that come in and out of Skyhold and I wouldn’t want to send something that would cause trouble._

_The Exalted Plains might be the worst place in Thedas. At least, it’s the worst place that I’ve ever seen. There are demons and bandits everywhere and the weather is terrible. On a positive note, there are a lot of interesting elven statues and I’ve collected more shards. I also found another Venatori tome. It’s even more disturbing than the first one, but I’m happy to think that I’m getting closer to learning rift magic._

_How are things back at Skyhold? I’m sure that everything is running smoothly with you there. I hope you’re in good health, and that you’re taking time to relax. If you need to, lock yourself in your office and tell everybody that you’re working on an important assignment for me and can’t be disturbed. I promise to corroborate this when I get back._

_Yours,  
Herah_

_P.S. Please let me know if Solas turns up at Skyhold. He left our party suddenly because of a personal situation and I want to give him the space that he needs right now, but I’m worried about him._

_My love,_

_I haven’t seen Solas recently, but I’ll let you know if he arrives back here. How has the rest of your team been faring? I do hope you haven’t been injured. Should I send somebody else to take Solas’ place?_

_Everyone calls me Josephine except for Leliana and my father, who still sometimes calls me Jo. There are only a few people who are dear enough to my heart to get away with giving me a nickname. This of course includes you, but I do like the way that my full name sounds in your voice._

_As for the content of our letters, many people are aware that we are romantically involved and I see no reason to pretend otherwise. Leliana’s agents do a lot of difficult, dangerous work and if one of them does happen to read something of a personal nature, I very much doubt that it would be the worst part of their job. However, there is always a possibility that letters could be intercepted and I would caution you against mentioning anything that would be considered controversial or harmful._

_Skyhold is lonely without you but it continues on much the same as always. We have had more pilgrims who make the long trek up the mountain just to visit the Inquisition. I don’t know what they’re searching for but I hope that we can be worthy of their efforts._

_I miss you. Please be safe._

_Josephine_

_To my favorite ambassador,_

_You have the most beautiful handwriting I’ve ever seen. It’s so graceful, almost like a work of art. Like I said in my last letter, you really need to relax more. It’s me. I won’t hold it against you if your handwriting is less than perfect._

_After Solas left, I asked one of the scouts to send a request for Cole to come along on the next supply run going this way. His abilities are so strange and I wanted to see them up close. The next morning, before the raven had even been sent out, Cole suddenly appeared at our camp. I have no idea how he was able to get here so quickly. The strangest part was that he couldn’t really explain how he did it, either. He just knew that he was needed and he wanted to help us._

_That reminds me, we ran into a Dalish clan here and they were suspicious of us at first, but we’ve been helping them with various things and they’ve warmed up to us a lot. One of their hunters even wants to join the Inquisition! They have also been very patiently answering all of my questions about their language and religion. It’s interesting to hear how the elves think about magic, too. Their attitude toward it is different from anyone else I’ve ever met. I’ve also been able to find a third Venatori tome. It’s somewhat less offensive than the other two, which isn’t saying much, and I’m looking forward to starting my new training when I get back._

_I hope that it wouldn’t be too forward to say that I can’t stop thinking about kissing you. It’s very distracting._

_Love,  
Herah_

_Dearest,_

_I appreciate your compliments about my handwriting, but why do you assume that it’s the result of being tense? Perhaps I am just naturally graceful? Or perhaps I feel that you deserve more of my best efforts than anyone else? If I can’t impress you then I don’t know who I should be trying to impress._

_Solas has returned to Skyhold. He has been keeping to himself, even more than usual, but he looks healthy and unharmed. He seems to be spending most of his time painting the walls of the rotunda._

_You say that you have no talent for diplomacy, but you manage to recruit new agents for the Inquisition wherever you go. I forget who originally said this, but there is a saying that anyone can tell people what to do but only a true leader can lead by example. You truly are a leader and people everywhere can see it._

_I find that I have also been preoccupied with thoughts of you. I miss seeing you and talking to you but I also miss kissing you, almost constantly. Even in the middle of work I’ll catch myself remembering how your body felt against mine, and thinking about your lips and your hands on me._

_As always, I pray that you are safe. You are truly doing important work and although Skyhold isn’t the same without you, I know that you’re needed elsewhere and I patiently await your return._

_All my love,  
Josephine_

_Josephine,_

_Apparently I’m too flustered to come up with a clever salutation. You need to warn me before saying things like that. I read your letter right after I received it, when Cassandra happened to be standing next to me, and I’m not sure what my face looked like but she hasn’t stopped asking me questions since._

_In any case, we seem to have exhausted everything interesting and/or useful in the Exalted Plains and we’re on our way back now. I look forward to being flustered by you in person._

_Yours, always,  
Herah_

 

It’s late in the afternoon when they finally arrive back at Skyhold. Herah goes to her room first so that she can freshen up before greeting people, and notices that there is a vase full of pale blue flowers sitting on her desk. She walks closer and sees the note in front of it.

_Herah,_

_These aren’t the flowers you mentioned from the Free Marches, but I hope you enjoy them anyway. I thought you would appreciate something beautiful after spending time in the worst place in Thedas. I had been looking forward to seeing you again but I have meetings scheduled for the rest of the day and I fear that you will be swarmed with people asking you for favors if you come anywhere near my office. If you’re asleep by the time I’m free (and I hope you are, because you need rest!), then I can’t wait to see you tomorrow._

_Love,  
Josephine_

She’s tempted to go to Josephine’s office immediately to greet her, but the letter makes a very good point that Herah will probably end up agreeing to do four different things on the way there and then she’ll feel obligated to finish at least one of them before dinner, and she really doesn’t have the energy for that. Instead, she changes into clean clothes and then goes to the rotunda to check on Solas.

Herah gasps audibly when she sees what it looks like inside. Solas had been talking about painting and he was making sketches and starting to mark up the walls before they left, but she hadn’t really been aware of the extent of his plans for this room. It’s stunning. The colors are so bold and the designs are beautiful. As she looks closer, she notices that there are eyes everywhere. She wonders if it’s a symbol for something, or if Solas just likes painting eyes. 

Solas isn’t painting right now. He’s actually sitting at his desk with his head buried in a book. “Do you need something?” he asks, without looking up.

“Your paintings are lovely.” 

“Thank you.” His voice is softer than usual. He does look up now.

“I wanted to talk about what happened with your friend.”

“I- yes. I owe you an apology for how I acted.”

“What, when you left? You don’t need to apologize for that. Or are you talking about killing the people who were summoning demons? I can’t really hold that against you, either.”

The look on his face is unreadable. 

“Come here,” she says, and without giving him a chance to respond she pulls him into a hug. Solas stiffens for a moment before hugging her back tightly, as if worried that she’ll disappear. She sometimes forgets how _small_ he is. Solas always carries himself with this quiet confidence that makes him seem larger, but his slight frame almost feels fragile when he’s pressed against her like this.

“What was your friend like?” she asks.

“It was always curious, especially about new ideas. It never wanted to come here-” his voice chokes. “The two of you would have gotten along well, I think.”

They talk about spirits and demons and what Herah has been reading in the Venatori tomes, which Solas reassures her are inaccurate to the point of being offensive. He shows her his sketches for his next fresco. They sit on opposite ends of his couch and read different books in complete silence for two hours, and Solas thanks her afterward “just for being there.”

“I’m always here for you,” she says.

 

It’s late at night and Herah is almost asleep when she hears the door to her room open. She startles and casts a barrier around herself on instinct.

“It’s just me! I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“Wha- Josephine?” She blinks, trying to focus her eyes. 

“I should go. You need your rest-”

“No, come here. It’s good to see you.” 

She watches Josephine strip down to her underclothes and lift back the blanket to join her in bed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get away before now. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Herah pulls her closer. The castle is cold at night but Josephine’s skin is warm, and her body is a comforting weight against Herah’s. It’s hard to believe that this feels familiar already. She intends to catch up on all of the kissing and talking that they missed while she was gone, but she can barely keep her eyes open. They’ll have time to reunite properly in the morning. “Goodnight,” she murmurs. 

Josephine snuggles against her. “Goodnight, my love.”

 

Herah would like to spend the next day in bed, but Josephine eventually, reluctantly, goes back to work, so Herah gathers the items that she’s collected and reports to Your Trainer. She has a large pile of cloth along with the four books and the stack of notes that she’s written about them. “This should be everything,” she says, trying to sound confident. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to focus on, so I tried to summarize the important points of all of the books and address the discrepancies between them.” 

Your Trainer scrutinizes everything that she’s brought. “Yes, this all looks good. Are you still sure that you want to study rift magic?”

She answers without hesitation. “Yes, of course I do!” 

“Good. There is no room for doubt here. Now, do you have any sewing ability?”

“Uh, I can do simple repairs and sew on buttons but that’s about it. Why do you ask?”

It turns out that she collected the pile of ring velvet so that she could make a tent. Herah has never even attempted to sew anything resembling a tent before. She considers asking Krem for help but she assumes that this is supposed to be part of the training.

Finally, after a lot of mistakes and a few accidental wounds from her needle, she manages to produce a very simple—and admittedly crooked—but functional tent. It isn’t lined with anything so it’s useless against the rain, but it does block the wind nicely. Your Trainer casts a small mage light, which floats lazily to the top of the tent. “There, now we can practice without anybody watching us.”

“Skyhold also has a lot of rooms with doors that lock. Just in case you need to use them for anything in the future.”

“That’s nice.”

Herah spends a long time learning how to feel the Veil. One of the first things that she notices is that it’s very thick at Skyhold. Your Trainer explains that she doesn’t know why the Veil is stronger here than anywhere else she’s seen, but it makes Skyhold a perfect location to practice.

It’s very different from training with Taashath. For one thing, she feels like she owes Taashath an apology for ever thinking that he was unreasonable or that he sometimes said things that didn’t make sense. Another noticeable difference is that they don’t meditate at all, even though they do spend a lot of time in the Fade. The rest of their time is spent in what Herah calls the Training Tent, practicing her new magic. She learns how to summon rocks from the Fade and how to pull and twist the Veil to create rifts and collect stray magic. It must be strange for anyone walking by the tent to hear rocks crashing around inside, but nobody ever bothers them. Once Herah has mastered simple rocks, they leave the tent and clear away everything flammable from an empty area of the courtyard so that she can practice summoning _flaming_ rocks. It’s scary at first, but it’s actually satisfying once she gets the hang of it.

 

The letter from Dorian’s father doesn’t seem like anything bad, but she shows it to Dorian anyway. His reaction doesn’t make any sense.

“It sounds like he’s just worried about you. Why are you being so strange about this?”

“Let’s just say that it’s a sensitive subject and leave it at that. Can you at least come with me, in case he’s sent someone to kidnap me?”

“Why would your father do that?”

“If you’ll agree to accompany me then I’d rather end the conversation here, if you don’t mind.” He turns and walks away without waiting for a response.

The trip to the Hinterlands is tense. Sera is apparently able to distract Dorian from whatever is on his mind, but he largely ignores Herah. The only time he talks to her directly is when he makes fun of her for reading one of Brother Genitivi’s books.

“What’s wrong with Genitivi?”

“Nothing, if you’re in the mood for trite Chantry propaganda.”

“But he knows so much! He’s traveled to all these different places and spoken with so many people!” 

Dorian’s only response is to scoff at her. He turns away but she thinks she sees him rolling his eyes.

She isn’t sure what to expect when they get to the tavern, but she knows that something is very wrong when she sees Dorian stiffen in fear. He isn’t afraid of demons or giants and he wasn’t even afraid of Alexius, but he is afraid of his own father. 

It’s actually almost funny to watch how Magister Pavus reacts to her. He treats her with the respect that the Herald of Andraste ostensibly deserves, but it’s obviously uncomfortable for him to be polite to a Qunari and she would be trying not to laugh at him under different circumstances.

They argue, and the atmosphere in the tavern becomes increasingly uncomfortable. She shouldn’t be here, listening to this, but Dorian specifically asked her to be here to protect him from whatever he’s afraid of and she isn’t going to abandon him now.

“You tried to _change_ me,” he says, and suddenly she understands what all of this has been about.

“What the fuck?!” Halward Pavus is sneering at her. Everybody else is staring, and she didn’t actually mean to yell, but- “What the _fuck_?” she repeats.

Dorian and his father pick up where they left off, arguing more until Halward tries to apologize and Dorian freezes again.

The room is silent. Everyone is still looking at her, as if they’re waiting for her to say something else. “Look, Dorian, I’ll support you either way but I think you would regret it more if you don’t hear him out.” 

He looks angry, and for a moment she thinks that he’s going to ignore her and storm out—and she _would_ support him if he did—but he stops and turns to look at his father. There’s a moment of naked vulnerability before he squares his shoulders and motions for Herah to leave.

She waits outside the door of the tavern, ready to run in and defend him if necessary. Dorian eventually comes back out and she can’t read the expression on his face at all. 

“How-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says.

She tries to talk to him about it later, while they’re on the way back to Skyhold. “What is wrong with your parents? I didn’t even know that people did things like that to their own family.”

“You’ve clearly lived a sheltered life. Lucky you.” He doesn’t even turn to look at her.

“I’ve known a lot of people who don’t have any relationship with their family at all. I thought that families either supported each other or abandoned each other, not… whatever your parents did.”

“I see.”

“Why didn’t they have more children if it was so important for them to have grandchildren? It doesn’t make any sense. I mean, what if you’d died young?”

“Excuse me,” he says, and goes to his tent.

She tries talking to Sera next, but that doesn’t go much better.

“I didn’t put them there!” she says as soon as Herah turns to look at her.

“You didn’t put what where?”

“Nothing.” 

“Uh, I think I’m going to ignore that. How have you been?”

“Busy with… things.” She barely stifles a giggle.

“That’s… good? I was just wondering, have you met Dagna?”

“What, the dwarf-mage? Dunno how that even works, but she did something to one of my bows and now it shoots ice. Asked a lot of weird questions.”

“You know, I think the two of you would really get along with each other.”

“What, like friends? She’s nice enough and she’s good at making things explode, but it’s not like she’d want to talk to me just for fun. Too stupid for her.”

“Did Dagna say that you were stupid? That’s horrible!” She wonders if she could get away with yelling at Dagna, or maybe even threatening to fire her from the Inquisition.

“Doesn’t have to, does she? She’s proper smart.” Sera is staring at something on the floor.

“You should talk to her. Please? Invite her for drinks or ask for help with one of your pranks or something. She hasn’t been here for very long and I don’t think she has very many friends yet.”

“Did Lady Josiepants put you up to this? Help the Arcanist make friends so that she doesn’t get lonely and go work for our enemies?”

Herah makes a noise that is supposed to be noncommittal, but Sera seems to take it as confirmation. 

“I’ll talk to her, but I’m not wasting my time if she starts talking like she’s better than me.”

“Thank you, Sera. The Inquisition appreciates your willingness to promote cohesion and good morale.”

Sera somehow manages to blow a raspberry at her and make it seem affectionate.

She tries talking to Dorian again the next day. “I feel bad that I used to envy you. I didn’t know the full situation, and I owe you an apology.”

“You envied me, did you?” She expects him to make some flippant remark about how anybody would want to be as good-looking as he is, but he’s oddly silent.

“I always wanted to be able to go to school but it was never an option for me. You’ve been to several different schools and you had all this privilege that you just threw away. I always thought you were selfish but it turns out that you had good reasons after all. I shouldn’t have made assumptions.”

“It’s comforting to know that my troubles make your life seem almost decent by comparison.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Dorian doesn’t say anything in response, and Herah doesn’t say anything to him, and it stretches into a long silence that lasts for most of their trip.

 

Josephine’s schedule is relatively clear when they get back, and Herah is able to go straight to her office to greet her. They hardly even say anything to each other- Josephine locks the door to her office and Herah lifts her up and sets her down on an empty place on her desk so that Josephine can wrap her legs around Herah’s waist and hold her face in her hands, anchoring her in place no matter how far away she goes.

Josephine’s eyes seem to sparkle in the candlelight, and her mouth is soft and warm. It should be strange that something so intense can also be so comforting, but it doesn’t feel strange at all.

Several minutes go by before either of them speaks. “How were the Hinterlands?” Josephine finally asks.

“It’s getting better but there’s still a lot of fighting.”

“That’s encouraging, at least. How did Dorian’s meeting go?”

Herah feels herself pulling away slightly. Just the thought of the subject puts her out of the mood for any kind of intimacy. “His father was there.”

“Oh? What happened?”

She tells Josephine everything. It feels awkward to talk about Dorian’s private life, but Magister Pavus could be a potential threat to the Inquisition and Josephine should at least be aware of the situation. “And then I tried to apologize to him afterward but I think I made it worse,” she says, finally.

“I’m sure that Dorian just isn’t comfortable with talking about his personal life.”

“No, he really doesn’t like me.”

Josephine looks thoughtful. “I’m sure that there’s a way to get through to him, but you can’t expect him to be vulnerable right away. I have some ideas, if you’re willing.”

“Of course!”

Josephine’s smile is devious. “Well, the first thing we need to do is to get into Leliana’s private collection of spirits. I will take the blame if she gets upset, but I believe that she will understand that this is for a good cause.”

“I’m listening.”

 

She goes to visit Dorian in the library after dinner. He’d been leaning over the balcony but he stands up when he sees her.

“Yes?” It would sound polite if she didn’t know him better.

“You said earlier that you’re planning to drink yourself into a stupor.”

“And what, you’re here to try to stop me?”

“No, I’m here to drink with you.” She remembers Josephine’s advice. “I have a bottle of 100-year-old Orlesian brandy, but I’m worried that it will be too strong for me so I was thinking that I should mix it with some juice. Or maybe I could just give it to the kitchen staff so that they can use it for cooking.”

Dorian’s expression is horrified. “I’m almost entirely sure that’s an idle threat, but I can’t take the chance that you’ll follow through with it. Come on.” He leads the way back to her room and doesn’t stop until he’s clutching a glass of brandy in his hand as if he’s trying to protect it from her. 

Herah tries some of the brandy and it’s actually very good. She thinks about how she and Dorian haven’t spent this much time together without arguing since they were in the future. “Do you want to play chess?” she asks.

“Chess?” he repeats, confused.

“I’ve seen you playing with Cullen. I won the one time I played with him, but I think he might have let me win. I usually win when I play with Josephine, but she always beats me in Wicked Grace. Solas always wins when I play with him, but I haven't played against yet and we’re apparently bad at talking to each other so I thought we should do something else instead.”

Dorian looks confused for a moment but he finally shrugs. “All right,” he says.

She finds her chess set and sets up the board. 

“I’ll be black,” Dorian says immediately.

She doesn’t try to argue. She turns the board so that the white side is in front of her and starts by moving a Ben-Hassrath. “We should turn this into a game.”

“Isn’t that what it is already?” Dorian moves a pawn out.

“No, with the drinks. The mercenaries that I worked for used to play games with cards where you had to finish your drink if you lost, or something like that.” She moves her Ben-Hassrath closer to his front lines.

“So when either of us has a piece captured, we have to take a drink?” He moves another pawn forward.

She moves one of her pawns. “That’s the idea.”

They continue playing. Despite Dorian’s insistence that the brandy is meant to be sipped slowly and with great contemplation, his strategy seems to be centered around capturing as many of her pieces as he can in order to get her drunk as quickly as possible. The unfortunate thing is that it’s working.

Other than occasionally saying “check,” they’re both silent. Herah gives up on trying to play strategically and just focuses on trying to capture pieces too, even if it means giving up towers to take pawns. At some point, they both start drinking on every turn and it isn’t long before they’ve finished the brandy, there are only a handful of pieces left on the board, and neither of them is anywhere close to winning. It’s also the most pleasant interaction that she’s ever had with Dorian.

“I suppose one of us will have to brave the spiders in your wine cellar to get more to drink,” he finally says.

“No I’ve got more!” She stands up (very carefully, because it’s getting more difficult) and shows him a large bottle of Tevinter wine with a name that she can’t even pronounce, but Josephine had assured her was very fancy and expensive. “And if you don’t want to think about your homeland right now, I also have some Nevarran whiskey that might actually be embalming fluid. The label was hard to read-”

“The wine will be perfect.” Herah pours glasses for both of them and Dorian sniffs it and makes an impressed-looking face before taking a sip. “How did you manage to find all of this? You don’t seem to have any other expensive habits so I suppose you can afford it, but it’s remarkable that you were able to track these down at all.”

“My Voice is very well-connected,” she says, not bothering to keep the pride out of her voice.

“Are you planning to claim her, then?” His voice was happy and lighthearted a moment ago but now it’s serious. He stares at the board. “Whose turn was it?”

“I think it was yours, but what do you mean, claim her? That’s such a dramatic way of putting it. Josephine and I have talked about bonding, yes, and we plan to do it at some point in the future.” She feels herself blushing at the mention of such an intimate topic, but it’s the least she can do to allow herself to be vulnerable around Dorian after she saw more of his life than he wanted to show her.

“So after everything you said about what my father tried to do, you have no issue with using blood magic yourself? It’s not my place to tell the Inquisitor how to conduct her business, but I rather thought…” He sighs. “I’m fairly sure it was your turn.”

“Why are you talking about blood magic? Where did that come from?” She could’ve sworn that they were talking about Josephine a moment ago, and she isn’t _that_ drunk.

“Didn’t you just say that you were going to bond with her?” Dorian’s looking at her like she’s stupid, and it hurts more than she wants to admit. “How else would that happen?” 

“With, uh, physical contact. Is that not how humans do it? And I moved my—I think you call them mages?—on the last turn, remember?” She’d grown up playing chess with Karaas and she'd assumed that it was a Qunari game until she joined the Inquisition and found out that everybody else had different names for the pieces.

“What else would they be called? And what do you mean, physical contact?”

She takes a drink of the wine. It’s a little too sweet for her tastes but it’s not bad at all. “People normally have sex with each other, even though you don’t always have to.”

Dorian looks shocked. “Truly? I can’t believe that the Qunari are the ones who do something the fun way. I don’t believe that’s ever happened before.”

She feels like she should be insulted but he has a good point. “I wonder how elves do it?”

“I’m sure that trees are involved.”

“You’re probably right.”

Dorian’s staring at the board again. “I really must know what you call the mages, if not mages.” He gestures vaguely toward one of the pieces in question.

“They’re Tamassrans. It makes a lot more sense than mages, anyway.”

“Why does that make more sense?”

She scoffs at him. “Obviously, we don’t move diagonally.”

“Do Tamassrans move diagonally?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never met any of them.” She realizes that neither of them have touched the chessboard in several minutes. “Do you want to just abandon the game? I’ll say that you won.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” He raises his glass to her. “I accept your gracious surrender.”

Herah laughs, maybe a little too much, and leans back in her chair. “So, what’s your Voice like? You haven’t told me much about him.”

“ _That_ is private.” 

“Come on, at least tell me what he looks like.” 

Dorian sputters around a mouthful of wine. 

“Does that mean he’s good-looking?”

Dorian gives her an annoyed look but he doesn’t respond.

“Well, does it?”

“He’s too young for me. Brown hair, pale skin, somewhat muscular build, and yes, he could be described as ‘good-looking.’”

“Thank you.” She says it in a slightly patronizing voice, as if she’s praising a child. Dorian gives her a withering look.

It’s only when they finish the wine that Herah realizes how late it is. “I have to meet with the war council tomorrow morning so I should probably go to bed, but you’re welcome to sleep on the couch.”

He starts to decline until he stands up and glances nervously at the stairs. Herah would laugh at him but she probably couldn’t manage stairs right now, either. “I just might take you up on that,” he says.

Dorian sits down on the couch and he looks so sad and alone that Herah feels obligated to sit with him. She also feels like she should say something comforting, but she’s been having bad luck with that lately.

Dorian is the one who breaks the silence. “What’s wrong with me?”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Please,” he says sarcastically.

“Do you think that there’s something wrong with you because you like men?”

“No. Well, yes, obviously, but beyond that.”

“You make excuses for slavery, and you’re so used to being the smartest person in the room that you don’t even try to understand other people or ideas. That’s what’s wrong with you.”

“That’s fair.”

They’re both quiet, and Herah is almost asleep when Dorian starts talking again. “I’m sorry about everything I’ve put you through. I came here to help the Inquisition and I’ve just been making more work for you lately.”

“It’s fine, really.”

Dorian makes a dismissive noise.

“No, it is. Look, we don’t understand each other and I’m not sure if we ever will, but I respect you and I support you.”

“I-” his voice chokes. “For whatever it’s worth, I respect you too.”

 

She’s woken by a pounding on the door. She groans. She tries to open her eyes but the light makes her head hurt even more. 

“Inquisitor, are you in there?” It sounds like Cullen.

“Yes, what is it?”

She realizes that her feet are swollen from falling asleep sitting up. There’s something on top of her that’s warmer and heavier than her blanket.

Have Cullen’s footsteps always been so _loud_?

“Are you all right? I- oh, excuse me.” He sounds uncomfortable.

Herah forces her eyes open to see that Dorian is halfway on top of her and she has her arm draped over him. “Dorian, wake up!” She nudges him.

Cullen clears his throat. “Are the two of you all right? What happened?”

“Drunk chess,” Dorian says without moving. 

“I… see. And who won?”

“Nobody did.” Dorian still hasn’t moved.

She’s surprised to hear him say that, when she almost definitely remembers forfeiting the win to him. “If you’re playing drunk chess, you’ve already lost.”

“Well said, my dear.” 

“Ugh, you sound like Vivienne.” 

“I was going to speak with the Inquisitor before the meeting, but I’ll just see you there, I suppose. I’m, er, sorry for interrupting.” He starts to leave and then pauses. “It is nice to see you two becoming friends.” The door shuts behind him with a slam that makes her head throb.

“I should get ready for the meeting, actually.” 

Dorian finally sits up. His mustache is crooked.

“ _Are_ we friends now?”

“I should hope so, after last night.”

“Is that how you always make friends? You get drunk with people and then wake up next to them?”

She’d meant to tease him but he looks serious. “It’s a rather poor way to make friends, in my experience. I’m pleased that you’re an exception.”

 

Herah feels better after an elfroot potion and several cups of strong tea, and she manages to get through the meeting without making a fool of herself. 

Afterward, she goes to check on how Dorian is faring and sees that Mother Giselle is already talking to him. It’s hard to figure out what she’s accusing him of, exactly. Does she think that Dorian is trying to seduce Herah, or win favors from her, or use blood magic to control her, or some disturbing combination of the three? It probably didn’t look good for him to stagger back from her room wearing last night’s clothes, come to think of it.

“This is ridiculous,” she says loudly. Josephine would probably encourage her to be more subtle, but she’s still too hungover for subtlety. They both stop talking and stare at her. “My father used to be a Qunari soldier. Did you know that?” Dorian and Mother Giselle shake their heads, but she continues without waiting for a response. “His body is covered in scars and each of them has a horrifying story associated with it about a Tevinter who almost killed him. I understand the dangers of the Imperium very well, but I trust Dorian and consider him a friend and I don’t appreciate you harassing him.”

“I see, I was only voicing my concern.”

“Your concern has been noted,” she says. The atmosphere is very uncomfortable as Giselle makes her way down the stairs. Even Helisma seems uncomfortable.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Dorian says. 

“I know I didn’t. How have you been holding up? You don’t happen to know any magic that cures hangovers, do you?”

“No, but I would appreciate your help on a project, if you have some time.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve been trying to learn more about Corypheus’ history and how the magisters broke into the Black City, if that’s even what happened. You’ve been studying the Fade lately, haven’t you?”

“You don’t have to do that, either.”

“Do what?”

“You don’t have to act like you don’t think I’m an uneducated idiot. If you actually wanted Fade expertise, you’d ask Solas.”

“I’d rather work with you. You’re much better company, for one.”

“All right,” she says, finally. “Show me what you’ve got so far.”

They spend most of the day working. Afterward, she goes to get something to eat and visit Iron Bull. Bull must have noticed her approaching but he doesn’t move, or even react, until she’s right in front of him. “Hey, boss.” He gives a slight nod and takes a drink from his flagon.

“You like dragons, right?”

“Shit, who doesn’t?” He grins. 

She barely manages to stop herself from saying something like _normal people_. “I was planning a trip to fight the one in the Hinterlands. Would you like to come with us?”

“It’s in the way of some of those shards, huh?”

She tries not to bristle too much at the way that he can see through her. She’d done everything she could to get to the shards, including sending Cole after them, but the dragon had somehow managed to both see and remember him. “Yes. It burns anybody who tries to get close, so we need to kill it before we can collect the shards.”

“And you want me along because you won’t feel bad if I end up getting killed.”

She looks him in the eye. “Are you saying that you don’t want to do it?”

“Oh, I _definitely_ want to do it. Name the time and I’ll be ready.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I promised that I wouldn't abandon this!

_Ambassador,_

_The Inquisitor is all right. She asked for me to mention this first. She is sitting next to me right now, insisting that I need to reassure you that she is alive and mostly unharmed, except for the injuries that necessitate keeping her arms bandaged while they heal. The healer says that she will recover soon and that there shouldn’t be any lasting complications._

_In happier news, we have successfully defeated the dragon who had made its nest in the southeastern area of the Hinterlands, and Herah has made more progress on closing rifts in the area. I hope you are well._

_Solas_

_Solas,_

_Thank you so much for your letter. How is Herah’s condition? Is she in a lot of pain? Do you need anything? I hope that no one else was badly hurt. Please, tell Herah that I am praying for her quick recovery and don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything else that I can do._

_Sincerely yours,  
Josephine Montilyet_

_Karaas,_

_Sorry for not writing more often. Things have been very busy and stressful, and then a dragon stepped on me and I wasn’t able to use my hands at all and it made me think that I should write to you before something like that happens again._

_I have realized lately that I am very lucky to have a family who is so supportive of me. I think I took it for granted, but it means a lot that I can count on all of you to love me and back me up even if the rest of the world is against me._

_How have you been? I hope everyone is well. Say hello to Andraste for me. Please don’t tell Mother and Father about the dragon._

_Herah_

_H,_

_Don’t think I didn’t notice how you just threw “and then a dragon stepped on me” into the middle of a sentence like it happens to you all the time. It’s so thoughtful of you to give me a reminder of how boring my life is, just when I was starting to think otherwise._

_Speaking of our family and how we support each other unconditionally, it’s about to get slightly bigger. One of the new people that Mother and Father hired to work on the farm is a Tal-Vashoth man named Martam. He’s a hard worker but he’s very quiet and he always keeps to himself, or at least I thought he did until Sanah told me that she’s pregnant with his child. She keeps asking me for advice about how to tell our parents. I tried reassuring her that they won’t be upset, but she’s actually more worried that they will “make a really big deal about it.” I have no idea why she thinks I’m qualified to give advice about this. Then again, I have enough common sense to not get underfoot of a dragon._

_Please be safe. I pray for you every day but it’s not going to be enough if you’re determined to get yourself killed._

_K_

_Josephine,_

_The healer says that I don’t have to wear the splints anymore, but I have to avoid heavy lifting and “swinging that staff around wildly” for at least another week. The battle with the dragon actually went really well until the end, when I was too busy trying to kill it to focus on staying out of the way and I got knocked down and stepped on._

_The Iron Bull has been in an alarmingly good mood ever since the fight. He seemed to enjoy it more than any reasonable person should, actually. I’m not really fluent in Qunlat but I remember hearing him yell out something that I’m too embarrassed to write down in a letter. It’s probably an idiom._

_We explored more of the Hinterlands and I’ve been able to collect several more shards. I also came across a community of people who apparently worship me. It was disturbing. I tried to tell them that I’m just a normal mortal person with a magic hand, but they seemed to think that it was a test of their faith._

_We are taking a longer route home to try to avoid getting into any fights that would involve wild staff-swinging, but I hope to be back soon. I would write something flirty but I’m still disturbed by what I heard Bull say, not to mention that Solas is in the tent with me right now as I write this. He’s asleep, but it still seems too awkward. I miss you._

_Yours,  
Herah_

_My love,_

_It was such a relief to see your handwriting again! You will have to say a lot of flirty things to me once we see each other again to make up for the time when we were apart. Life has been busy here, as always. I’ve come to realize that I spend a lot of time listening to people complain about their problems and it makes me want to complain in turn to the first person who will listen. This is often you, even when you aren’t here in person, and I am grateful to you for your patience and understanding._

_I have an odd question for you, if you don’t mind indulging me. I was meeting with one of the former Circle mages earlier today and she mentioned something about the life she could have had if she wasn’t a mage. I pressed her on it and she seemed surprised, because she'd thought it was common knowledge that all mages view their magic as a curse. I realize that your experience has been very different from that of a Circle mage, but I’m curious to know whether or not you would give up being a mage, if you could. I do hope it goes without saying that I love you as you are, no matter what._

_Josephine_

_Josephine,_

_When I was a child, my brother (my twin brother, not my younger brother) once asked me if I wished that I wasn’t a mage. We all had chores and lessons to do, and then I had to do magic lessons on top of everything so I didn’t have as much time to play as the rest of them. There was also, of course, the risk that I could be possessed by a demon and try to kill everybody. I told him that it was annoying to have to do so much extra work but I liked being a mage because it made me special._

_Now that I’m an adult, it might be nice to be ordinary but I get the feeling that I’d still be an odd person even without magic. I’m also not sure what I would have done for a living otherwise because I’m not really good at anything else. Honestly, magic has been a part of me and my life for so long that it feels fundamental to my identity, like I would be a different person without it. Does that make any sense?_

_We have had to take several detours to avoid most of the fighting, but we should be back shortly after you receive this letter. At least the weather is nice._

_Love,_  
Herah  


 

Almost as soon as Herah arrives back at Skyhold, Josephine insists that there’s something important that they must discuss immediately in her office. Once the door closes behind them, Josephine starts unbuttoning Herah’s shirt.

“Mm, I missed you too.” She bends down to try to kiss Josephine, but Josephine turns her head to the side.

“Not now, this is serious.” She finishes with the buttons and pulls gently on Herah’s sleeves until her shirt is off. The end of her braid is tickling her bare skin and Herah can feel her nipples getting stiff underneath her breast band.

“Can I kiss you now?”

“No, let me look at you.” Josephine examines each of Herah’s arms, tracing the outlines of her muscles with her fingertips, before walking around to her back. “You still have a lot of bruises but I can’t see anything else. The healer did a very good job.”

“I told you that I was fine now.” 

“You broke both of your arms and at least a few ribs, and that’s only what they were willing to tell me about.” The warmth of Josephine's breath on her skin is distracting.

“I’m fine,” she says again.

Josephine rests her cheek against Herah’s back and wraps her arms around her waist. “I know. I just had to see it for myself.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

 

Several minutes later, she finds herself in Josephine’s chair, after Josephine pushed her down into it and climbed onto her lap. It’s easily the most comfortable chair that she’s ever sat in. If she has to have a throne to sit in while she judges people, she doesn’t know why she can’t use a chair like this.

Her body is still sore from her injuries but it’s easy to ignore when Josephine’s weight is so solid and wonderful on top of her and she’s kissing Herah sweetly. The insistent _pull_ is there, telling her to let Josephine claim her and to claim her in turn, as if the Fade very badly wants them to bond with each other and they’re playing with fire by ignoring it.

One of Herah’s hands is holding onto Josephine’s waist and the other is gripping Josephine’s leg underneath her skirt. The shiny-gold fabric of her leggings is too smooth to hold onto but her bloomers are made out of something stiff and textured. Josephine shifts in Herah’s arms and moves to kiss her neck. Her necklace is cold against Herah’s skin but her mouth is warm. Her hand is almost between Josephine’s legs now. She _wants_ her so badly that she doesn’t know how she can-

Josephine shifts again and Herah’s hand is definitely between her thighs. She’s almost grinding down and the position is very awkward but there’s no way that Josephine isn’t doing this on purpose.

“Is this all right?” Josephine suddenly asks. “Is it okay for you to touch me there?”

“I think so.” She can’t move her hand very much but she presses against Josephine’s body and she’s rewarded with a soft moaning sound. “I know that there has to be physical contact for bonding, which probably means that it would need to be skin-to-skin contact.” She moves her hand again. She knows that Josephine is wearing underclothes and leggings and bloomers but she can still feel her heat through all of the layers. “On the other hand, what if I could bring you off like this, through your clothes? That would count as sex, wouldn’t it?”

“I doubt you could, but I’d like to see you try.” Her voice sounds breathless. Herah knows, suddenly, that if Josephine asked to bond right now that she would do it without hesitation.

Instead, she moves again, and Herah realizes that she’s trying to swing her legs down to the floor. She moves her arms out of the way so that Josephine can sit upright on her lap, with her back to Herah’s chest. “That was very nice, but it was starting to hurt my neck.”

“True.” Herah tries to roll some of the stiffness out of her shoulders. She wraps her arms around Josephine’s waist, a mirror of their position from earlier.

“I am very glad that you are back.” Most of Herah’s body is still sore but Josephine feels so good on top of her that she doesn’t want her to ever get up.

“I just thought of something,” she says, after a moment.

“What is it?”

“We need to be careful about touching each other, but there shouldn’t be any reason why we can’t look at each other and touch ourselves, right?”

“ _Oh._ ” Josephine seems to be lost in thought. “You have very good ideas, my darling. The Inquisition would surely be lost without your brilliant mind.”

Herah presses her face against Josephine’s hair and laughs. “It’s nice that you think so, but I actually just thought of a problem with my idea.”

“What’s that?”

“We’d have to stop touching each other in order to do that.” Her arms are still firmly around Josephine’s waist and Josephine shows no signs of moving.

“That is a problem, yes.”

Herah thinks about Josephine’s question from her letter. If she weren’t a mage, they could sleep with each other whenever they both decided that they wanted to and that they were ready for it, like normal people. She’d hoped to let Josephine get to know her without being bonded, but the idea of it seems to loom over them whenever they interact with each other. She thinks that she’d almost be willing to think about giving up her magic for this, except that she would never have gone to Ferelden or joined the Inquisition if Josephine weren’t her Voice. Maybe this is the way that it was always supposed to be.

The knock at the door comes only a moment later. Herah almost jumps up in surprise.

“Who is it?” Josephine calls out. She whispers “Don’t worry, I locked it.”

“Lady Josephine? I’m afraid that I must speak to you at once.”

Herah doesn’t recognize the voice but Josephine seems to. “Just a minute!” She climbs off Herah’s lap, whispering apologies as she retrieves Herah’s shirt and hands it to her. 

Herah buttons her shirt in the hallway leading to the War Room as Josephine calmly greets the intruder. Herah tries to smooth out her hair and steady her breathing. After several minutes, she realizes that they're probably going to be talking for a very long time and that there’s no good explanation for why she’s been standing in the hallway all this time. She briefly considers trying to leave through the hole in the wall and climb down the side of the castle, or just staying in the hallway all night, but she has too much work to get done today. She also considers trying to Fade Step through the room, but she would run into the door before she managed to open it.

Finally, Herah takes a deep breath and opens the door to Josephine’s office. Her face feels hot. 

“…Your worship?” It’s one of Leliana’s scouts and she looks surprised to see Herah there.

“Inquisitor, did you find the documents that you were looking for in the War Room?”

Herah can’t bring herself to look at Josephine because she doesn’t trust herself not to give everything away. “Uh, no, I didn’t. I was going to ask Cullen to see if he picked them up.”

“That’s a good idea. I wish you luck!”

Herah closes the door behind her quickly and rushes off to her room as quickly as she can without actually running. 

She’s trying to decide whether or not it would be completely inappropriate to just stay in her room and masturbate instead of starting on the pile of paperwork that is sitting on her desk, when there’s a knock on her door. 

It’s a courier with an invitation from The Iron Bull to get drinks and celebrate the dragon-slaying. He wants to meet in the Herald’s Rest, so it probably isn’t a trap. They both know that Cole usually likes to peer over the balcony and watch people and that he’d be able to notice and warn her immediately of any danger. She thinks about how Bull is very obviously a spy who is out to get her, but he hasn’t actually done anything except for help her kill a dragon.

She accepts the invitation but she still isn’t sure that it’s the right decision.

 

When she gets to the tavern that evening, she nods to Bull and gets halfway to the bar before he calls out to her. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, holding up a bottle. It’s still sealed. He waits until she reaches his table to open the seal with a knife and pour two drinks, with both of his hands fully in sight. He lets her choose one and takes a drink from the other one. “Ahh, that’s good. Makes you feel alive!”

“Is that maraas-lok?” she asks, even though it’s a rhetorical question. She can smell it from several feet away.

“Fuck yeah it is! Have you had this before?”

“Of course I’ve had it before.” She bites back a comment about how she hasn’t drank any in years because she isn’t a teenager trying to prove how tough she is. “So the dragon fight went well, didn’t it? A lot of the parts will probably be useful for crafting.” She forces herself to take a drink of the maraas-lok. If it didn’t taste exactly how she remembered, she would think that he was trying to poison her after all.

“Did you see the way it breathed fire?” 

“Yes.” She thinks that it was hard to miss, but Bull looks so excited right now that at least some of it has to be sincere. It’s almost endearing.

“Come on, you can’t tell me that it didn’t do anything for you? Even a little bit?”

“So when you were yelling about…” She really doesn’t want to say it out loud.

He laughs and takes a drink from his tankard. “You know Qunlat?”

“A little. I understand a lot more than I can speak.”

“But you don’t have any appreciation for dragons. _Ataashi_.” He draws out every syllable, like he’s caressing the word in his mouth. It’s disturbing.

“One of them almost killed me. I respect its power, but I don’t… _appreciate_ it.”

“It’s because you’re Vashoth. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Do the Viddathari get off on fighting dragons?”

He laughs again and leans into her space, but doesn’t touch her. “The good ones do.” 

She ignores him and takes another drink. She almost hopes that it turns her mouth numb soon so that she won’t have to taste it anymore.

“Were you this grouchy when you got drunk and had a heart-to-heart conversation with Dorian?”

“No, because we were drinking _good_ alcohol.” 

She thinks that he’s rolling his eye at her, but it’s hard to tell.

“Anyway, if we’re having a heart-to-heart conversation then I’ve always wanted to know how you ended up doing this.” She gestures around at the tavern, hoping that it will explain what she means. “This isn’t exactly a normal posting for a Ben-Hassrath agent.”

Bull pauses to drink before speaking. “I was sent to Seheron and stayed there for almost ten years until it fucked me up in the head, so then I went back and asked to be re-educated but they sent me north to do this. To make a long story short.”

She isn’t sure how to respond. With anyone else she would try to be sympathetic, but she thinks that Bull might find it insulting. It doesn’t help that she’s starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. “I’ve heard a lot of horror stories about Seheron,” she finally says. “That’s actually why my parents left the Qun.”

“What happened?” He sounds casual, but this is probably the tone he uses when he’s trying to get information out of people.

“My father was in the antaam. Mother was a quartermaster, so they saw each other fairly often. They loved each other in the way that the Qun approves of, but they also loved each other in the way that they wanted to prioritize each other above everything else.”

“That happens, sometimes. It doesn’t mean you have to act on it.”

“They didn’t, until my father found out that he was going to be assigned to Seheron. He knew that everyone who went there either died or came back so broken that they weren’t themselves anymore. Neither of them could bear the thought of that happening, so they ran away in the middle of the night and never looked back.”

“You know, I’ve known a lot of people who thought about doing something like that but they usually end up dead, one way or another. Your parents actually did pretty well for themselves. I’ll drink to that.” He sounds sincerely impressed.

“They took some food and extra clothes with them, and enough money to buy passage on a boat to Rivain, and my father obviously had his sword, but they didn’t bring anything else. When my mother told us this story my sister asked why she didn’t take all the money that she could get her hands on or weapons to sell or something, but neither of them had even thought about it.”

“They could’ve stolen a wagon full of gaatlok. If they’d found the right buyer before they got caught, they never would have had to work again.”

“Do people try that?”

“Not as often as you’d think. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, I don’t. I think I’m okay with that.”

“To the Adaar family,” he says, obviously trying to break the tension. He holds out his tankard and she knocks hers against it. The taste is almost bearable, which means that she is probably more drunk than she realizes. “To victory!” he says, holding his tankard out once more. 

She brings hers up again. “Anaan!”

 

The next day, Herah gets another invitation from The Iron Bull. He apparently thought that she wasn’t an entirely awful drinking buddy, because he’s inviting her to drink with his mercenary company. She doesn’t think that she’s actually met any of them other than Krem, so it might be a good idea to introduce herself to some of the people who have been working for the Inquisition.

As usual, Krem spends most of his time in the corner, watching everyone, and he doesn’t call much attention to himself but almost everything that he says has a dry, clever sense of humor to it. She’ll have to remember the phrase “pillowy man-bosoms,” even though she doesn’t know when it would come up again.

The rest of the Chargers are a lively, diverse group. Bull seems to have a habit of collecting outcasts who would have a hard time convincing anyone else to take a chance on them. Herah isn’t sure how many of them actually know that he’s part of the Ben-Hassrath.

At least the stuff that they’re drinking is better tonight.

When the evening is starting to wind down, she approaches Dalish. “Could I pick your brain about something?”

She’s immediately defensive. “I don’t know anything about magic!” 

“No, it’s not that! This might be an uncomfortable though, so I’m sorry in advance if I’m overstepping-”

“Skinner and me have a rule that we don’t go to bed with anyone else unless we’re both there. I’m not saying no and I don’t think she would either, but the three of us have to sit down and go over ground rules before anything happens.”

“Uh, okay, no, that’s very flattering but I actually wanted to talk to you about the Elven language.” Herah tries to go back over what she said to figure out which part of it sounded like she was propositioning her.

“ _Why?_ ”

“I was just curious, I guess.”

Dalish groans. “All right, I think I remember some of it. Buy me a drink and I’ll answer your bloody questions.”

* * *

Hawke wants them to go to Crestwood to meet his Warden contact, and Herah is happy to follow his lead. It’s interesting that he’s a mage, but he is somehow also a natural-born leader. She spends most of the trip there watching him reconnect with Varric. They seem to fall back into step together without even trying, and she realizes that she’s seeing a side of Varric that she didn’t even know about. Herah had always thought that she and Varric were friends, but she understands now that she will never have this kind of closeness with him.

She brought Blackwall along, hoping that he would have insight into whatever problems that the Grey Wardens are dealing with, but he doesn’t think that he’s met Hawke’s contact before and he’s been working alone for so long that most of his information is probably outdated. Herah has heard of spy networks being run like this, where people work independently of each other and information is only shared on an as-needed basis, but it seems like a strange way to organize an army.

Vivienne seems to believe that, unless there is an active Blight, the Wardens are useless at best and dangerous at worst. She doesn’t have to be so _rude_ about it but Herah has to admit that she has a good point.

 

Crestwood is-

Herah doesn’t even have words to describe it. She tries to write letters back to Josephine to tell her about what they’ve discovered, but it’s hard to make herself write more than _This is horrible. I don’t understand. I miss you._

Alistair should be a breath of fresh air, with his charisma and easy humor, but he is as exhausted and worried as the rest of them. He explains that nearly all of the Wardens (except for Blackwall, evidently) are hearing the Calling and are in the process of using blood magic to raise an army of demons. Herah had been planning to find and complete the astrariums in Crestwood but the news is so concerning that they leave for Skyhold right away.

 

Josephine finds her before she even reaches the castle. “My lady, I must speak with you at once.”

Herah would think that it’s a ruse to get her alone, except that Josephine genuinely looks worried. “What’s wrong?”

“We must speak privately. Let me see…” She leads Herah to a door in the courtyard that Herah has never even noticed before and unlocks it. It’s a dark, dusty room full of boxes, with another door on the opposite wall. They are plunged into darkness when the door shuts behind them.

Herah casts a ball of light in her hand.

“Thank you,” Josephine says. “I’d forgotten that there aren’t any windows in here.”

“Are there a lot of rooms in the castle that I don’t have keys to?” 

“You don’t have a full set of keys?”

It’s not that she presumes to have the authority to go anywhere that she wants, and she’s never needed to enter this room before, but she can’t wrap her head around the fact that she has the authority to order executions but not the authority to enter storage rooms unaccompanied.

Josephine’s face is partially shadowed but Herah can see that she still looks worried. “I assume that you didn’t bring me here for anything romantic?”

“Unfortunately not. Or, well-” she sighs. “I apologize for this, but the War Council has been meeting in your absence and they have decided that we should bond with each other as soon as possible. They planned to tell you this as soon as you returned.” She looks embarrassed.

“How is that any of their business? Why do they even care about-?”

She’s interrupted by the sound of someone opening the other door. Light floods the room and she can see a page standing in the doorway. “Does everyone have a key to this room?” Herah asks. She lets the light in her hand go out.

“There you are!” the page says. “You are both needed in the War Room.”

“I’m sorry,” Josephine whispers. Herah takes her hand and squeezes it.

 

Leliana, Cassandra, and Cullen are already waiting for them. “Inquisitor, Lady Montilyet. Please sit down.” Cassandra has a serious look on her face and Leliana isn’t showing any emotion at all. Cullen just looks angry.

Herah is starting to sit down when she realizes that Josephine is still standing. She looks indignant. “Is this really necessary?” 

“Josie, please.” Leliana’s face softens for a moment and Josephine pulls out her chair, even though she still doesn’t look happy. 

Leliana clears her throat. “We received your report from Crestwood. The news about the Wardens trying to raise a demon army is alarming. I fought alongside Alistair during the Blight and I know that he wouldn’t be concerned unless the situation was truly serious.” She pauses and makes eye contact with Herah. “We are taking a risk, sending you into such a dangerous situation, but it would be even more risky to ignore this threat. That being said, it would be advantageous for the two of you,” she gestures to Herah and Josephine “to form a bond before you leave for the Western Approach.”

Cullen is still frowning. Cassandra looks grim, but not surprised. One of them must have told her.

“Why are we having a meeting to discuss our personal life?” Josephine’s voice is calmer now but Herah can hear the anger underneath. 

“In a more peaceful time, the decision would of course be up to the two of you, but our situation is dire and we can’t pass up a possible advantage.”

“Is this why you pushed me to tell her? Because you thought it might be advantageous?”

Leliana just ignores the question. “To my knowledge, the two of you have discussed bonding and were planning on doing so in the future. If the Grey Wardens help the Venatori succeed in their plan, or if they manage to turn the Inquisitor into an abomination, you won’t have a future together.”

“I just want to clarify something.” Herah’s voice is shaky, especially compared to how confident everyone else sounds. “When we talk about bonding, are we talking about sex?”

Cullen speaks up for the first time. “You don’t always have to be... intimate. The act of bonding requires physical contact, but it can happen with something as simple as a kiss.”

It’s definitely not an issue of not wanting to sleep with Josephine, but she appreciates the thought. “What I meant was that we aren’t talking about blood magic, right?”

“Why would we be talking about blood magic?” Cullen’s face is even more pale than usual. Herah notices Cassandra’s hand twitching toward her hip.

“Nothing, I just heard… It doesn’t matter. As long as we all agree that blood magic isn’t an option?”

“Er, yes. I think we can all agree on that.”

Everyone is staring at her now. “Also, what about the Chantry? I thought they had a problem with Voices.”

Cassandra responds, with uncharacteristic caution. “You would not be the first pair to live in the public eye and present yourself as being Chantry loyalists, while being privately bonded.” She frowns, and Herah wonders if she’s referring to Vivienne. “As long as you are discreet, most people won’t be concerned with the particulars of your relationship.”

Everyone is still staring at her. “Uh, okay. That makes sense.”

Cullen speaks up again. “What, that’s it? You’re just okay with this?”

“I don’t know. I’m not opposed to it, but- this affects Josephine as much as me, and I’ll go along with whatever she decides.”

Everyone turns to look at Josephine now. She is sitting up straight, with her hands folded neatly on the table. “I understand what you are saying and I promise that I will take it into consideration.” Herah recognizes her voice as the same one that she uses when she’s trying to stop people from going to war with each other.

“Why are you both okay with this?” Cullen asks again. He looks at Herah, “And you, especially. Ever since you joined the Inquisition, you’ve been coached on what to wear, what to say, what work you’re allowed to do. You have complained about it but you always eventually do what you’re told. We’ve had multiple meetings to debate whether you should publicly refute the claim that you were chosen by the Maker, or just refuse to comment on it either way. _You’re not even allowed to make up your own mind about your relationship with the Maker._ Why doesn’t this bother you?”

There’s a long, awkward silence. “I don’t understand what you’re asking of me, here. Am I supposed to apologize for not being difficult to work with?” Cullen starts to respond, but she cuts him off. “Both of you,” she looks at Cullen and Cassandra, “criticized me after I allied with the rebel mages. It’s not like I don’t…” She pauses, not sure where she was going with that. “I was a mercenary for over ten years. I followed orders. That’s what I did. I’ve never been a leader before, ever. I’ve never had any kind of political or religious role. It’s not unreasonable for me to look to more experienced people for help…” Josephine squeezes her hand under the table. “You haven’t asked me to do anything morally objectionable or unnecessarily painful but if you ever do, I promise to be very difficult to work with. If that makes you feel any better.”

It takes Cullen a moment to realize that she’s finished speaking. He starts to open his mouth but then he closes it and nods at her.

“Well,” Leliana says, “it’s only fair for the two of you to have some time to think about this and discuss it between yourselves, but I strongly urge you to come to a decision soon.” It’s clear that she thinks she knows what the eventual decision will be. “This meeting is adjourned. Oh, and welcome back, Inquisitor. It’s good to see that you’ve returned safely.”

 

Herah is sitting on the couch in her room while Josephine is pacing back and forth, complaining about Leliana. It’s an oddly familiar scenario. “This is all Leliana’s idea, obviously. You could see how hesitant Cassandra was, and how Cullen was acting so oddly.”

“Do you think he’s okay?”

“I believe it’s an uncomfortable subject for him. Cullen has had bad experiences with magic and mages and it tends to cloud his perspective on things.” She hasn’t stopped pacing.

“I’m leaving this decision up to you,” Herah says abruptly. “I feel like I’ve been waiting to bond with you for twenty years, but you’ve only known me for less than a year. You should set the pace for this.”

Josephine stops to look at her. She’s twisting her hands together. “It does seem like this is all going so quickly, but ever since you told me that I am your Voice, I find myself preoccupied with thoughts of bonding with you.”

She looks so self-conscious that Herah says “Me too.”

“Under better circumstances, I would probably be saying that we should wait longer, but it would only be an excuse to prolong the inevitable. We are at war right now so there is no room for excuses. I want to do this with you, right now.”

Herah stands up, so that she’s looking down at Josephine instead of looking up at her. “You’re sure about this?”

“I am.” Josephine looks apprehensive but her smile is warm and sincere.

“All right.” It should be comforting to know that it’s finally going to happen, but Herah finds herself more anxious than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone else watch Critical Role? Back in 2017 when I was starting to write this story, my reference for Herah's hair was "Vex'ahlia-style side braid." I didn't actually base her on Vex; it was just something to help me visualize how she would look. It wasn't until much later that I realized that I'd also given her a religious twin brother and that she would literally be Stubby after Trespasser. Now that we're over a year into Campaign 2, I keep noticing that Herah seems to be a combination of Caleb and Yasha, except with a much happier backstory than either of them. Or am I just a narcissist who sees my OC everywhere I look? (Incidentally, Karaas also has the same haircut as Beau.)

**Author's Note:**

> This story has [a playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/66r0a55m4st6luiylwziqai91/playlist/5naIeuHzkT7Z1umn3OVznt?si=R4NYPC83QE61lCBAPz7CHw), because of course it does.
> 
> I'm Cinnamon #0956 on Discord. Come yell about video games with me!


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